Incursion
by AcronymAcrobat
Summary: A young man suddenly finds himself trapped in the high fantasy world of RWBY. But there are dark forces conspiring behind the scenes that threaten Remnant and Earth, and he has only one option: stand and fight, or die trying.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi, and welcome to Incursion. This is actually the second incarnation of this fic, and has multiple changes to both make the story more logical and to set the plot up for more exciting developments in the future.**

 **I hope you enjoy. And, feel free to leave a review with your thoughts on the fic. This is ultimately for your enjoyment, and I look forward to hearing your feedback.**

* * *

I awoke to a startlingly intense beam of UV radiation blasting through my window, and winced as my retinae screamed like a woman in labor. It was an average day in the beautiful southeast, the raging pustule of the United States where the humidity is so insanely high that your skin turns into a slip n' slide the moment you dare to enter the steamy hell known as "outside."

Attempting to not drown in my own sweat, I rolled to the other side of the bed and glanced at my clock. The gleaming red lights read "7:30 AM, Friday." A shudder shot through me as I came to terms with the fact that school started in exactly twenty minutes. I sprinted to the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice when I saw a note taped to the refrigerator.

"I've got training this weekend, so the house is yours. Don't burn the place down. BTW, I drank all the OJ." -Richard

"Dick," I said with a chuckle as I took the note down. My older brother and sole housemate, Richard, was enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserve, so I had the house to myself one weekend a month. We had been on our own since our mom and dad died in a car accident sixteen years ago. Luckily, we had our grandmother to take us in and raise us until Richard and I moved out. It wasn't ever the same in the family, but we got by.

I showered in two minutes flat and rushed into the nerd lair known as my bedroom. Neon Genesis Evangelion figures adorned the shelves and looked nearly cool enough to make me forget my status as a piece of weeaboo trash. Alongside my potentially cringeworthy merchandise, the room was complete with a collection of classic consoles, a beastly jet engine PC, and enough Doritos to feed a family of four for a week or so. I yanked a pair of tan cargo pants and a t-shirt with the insignia of AMD out of the closet and donned the attire before looking at myself in the mirror.

"Oh my, Aaron Carlyle, the females will not be able to resist your rapier wit and stunning good looks," I said to the reflection as I swept my brown hair to one side and attempted to make myself look presentable. I had the muscle tone of a wet noodle, and being over six feet tall didn't help my appearance in that regard. A bowl of Lucky Charms and three absolutely sick rolls over the living room furniture later, I leapt into my car and floored it out of the driveway.

This car was a great way to empty the wallet, and I was absolutely delighted that I made a Saudi prince smile every time I turned the key. I nearly flipped the car after a hard right turn that would impress Speed Racer, and sped down the parkway to my high school. As ashamed as I was of being a "Southern Boy," I was grateful for actually having paved roads and not being absolutely uncouth like many of my brethren.

I swerved into the parking lot of my beloved education establishment, Grandview High School. The view was only grand to the blind, and even that was up for debate. I felt the stinging pain of physical exertion as I ran into the building, and could barely stand by the time I made it to homeroom.

"Exhausted, Mister Carlyle?" asked my homeroom teacher, Mr. Wexler.

As the lone engineering teacher in school, Wexler naturally attracted the "nerd herd," and his intellect was still formidable despite his advanced age.

That and he literally had seven PhDs on his wall.

"I think I ruptured my spleen, Mr. Wexler," I wheezed between fish-like gasps for air as I limped to my seat.

"ArmA 3 doesn't prepare you for sprinting, Aaron," a familiar voice said.

"Dating sims don't prepare you for getting a girlfriend, Henry," I retorted. Henry was a fellow nerd and my best friend. The guy had a predilection for mischief, but if you could channel his cognitive faculties you had a real asset. If school was an Elder Scrolls game, Henry was my favorite follower. Our relationship had been cemented by a Game Boy Advance link cable a decade ago, and even in senior year, gaming was our favorite social activity.

"Well, my friend, it's Friday, and you know what that means," Henry said.

"It's Awful Fanfic Night, isn't it?" I replied. AFN was one of our oldest traditions, a sacred custom shared between two idiots with subpar social skills.

"Dude, I have a more exciting idea for tonight," he said, reaching for his backpack. The look on his face said it all: this was going to get good. Henry shuffled through his stuff, mumbling something about a "devious plot," until he pulled out a small black rectangle the size of a cell phone.

"You know it's a bad idea," I said, "when Henry breaks out the remotes."

"You know that the football team has a game tonight, right?" Henry asked.

"Duh," I stated. I didn't care about football, but the school clearly did, and with that kind of setup a game is hard to forget about.

"This baby controls an RC car that I planted under the bleachers," Henry whispered. The mischievous grin adorning his visage was contagious, and soon the hype was building within me.

"Want to join me for a drive, Aaron?" he continued as a ghastly cackle escaped his throat. I allowed myself a moment to think. This would be the most insane stunt we had ever pulled by a long shot. As much as logic wanted me to shoot it down, this idea was hard to resist.

"I'm in."

* * *

The remaining time at school was lackluster, as usual. I didn't see how so many people called the teenage years the "best years" of their lives, and personally, I thought that the imbecile that conceived the idea of placing twelve-hundred pimply and volatile sub-adult humans in one building should have been terminated with extreme prejudice.

The only class I enjoyed was Wexler's Engineering Class, because I got an excellent grade on my transcript just for tinkering and learning how to build things that didn't totally suck. After battling the hormonal crowds in the hallways in a way that would make the LAPD proud, I finally regrouped with Henry.

"Alright, if we're gonna pull this heist off, we need some gear. I have the car, of course, and some smoke bombs in case we want some extra fireworks," Henry said, the sunlight turning the lenses of his glasses white, like what happens in every anime ever.

"That's a nice trick with the glasses," I chatted.

"I've practiced," Henry bragged. "Anyways, you need to wear dark clothes, of course. Think Metal Gear Solid, but with us instead of highly trained operatives that actually know what the hell they're doing."

"I'll make sure to be stealthy," I confirmed, "and I'll bring the cardboard box."

An idea hit me as I finished the sentence.

"Henry," I began, "follow me to Mr. W's room. I have a pet project locked up in there that I'm dying to test out."

I could barely contain my excitement as we traversed the now-empty halls. I walked into the lab, checked the room for witnesses, and slowly opened the bottom drawer of a dusty and desolate tool crate that rested in the corner like a poor kid at a birthday party. I felt around in the drawer until I found my secret weapon.

"You'll be... Shocked, by this one," I cackled. In my hands, I held a pair of metal-studded mechanic gloves covered with a tangled web of wiring and solder. I flipped the red switches on the power sources, and flinched as blinding blue arcs shot across the shiny silver electrodes that adorned my knuckles.

"You have way too much time on your hands, dude," Henry said. He looked impressed, and this was coming from the guy who, at age four, built a device to get the straw into a Capri Sun without bending it.

"I modded some military-grade tasers that Richard brought home," I replied. "And I must say, these were entirely worth electrocuting myself...twice." I flipped the switches again, removed the improvised shock gloves, and stowed them in my backpack.

"Alright, mall ninja, meet me at the softball field at 8:00," Henry said as he walked out of the shop. I closed the crate and cleared any evidence of my entrance, and returned to my car.

"This is gonna be dumb as hell," I said, cracking a smirk as I peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

I arrived at my manor of manly, dropped my bags, and proceeded to plop down into my desk chair. I figured that if a seat has a permanent imprint of your ass, it may be used too much. But come on, what was I going to do, go outside? Sacrilege!

"Alright, it's 4:06, I have some time to relax."

I booted my jet engine PC, savoring the sound of my overclocked graphics card awakening from its slumber. I built the thing after sorting through seas of Amazon boxes, and I treated it like my child. Really, it was going to literally be my only child if my exploits with women didn't get more successful.

I opened Steam, thanked the almighty Gabe Newell for my beefy library of games and my shriveled wallet, and prepared for my daily Russian language lesson on Counter-Strike: Global Offensive.

I played for the next three hours, making a point to scream "ayy lmao" at 4:20. It probably wasn't healthy to have the three hours feel like three minutes, but I didn't really care. I threw open my closet doors in the most dramatic manner possible, sending a myriad of clothes careening across the room. Brimming with apprehension, I reached for a duffel bag in the corner of the closet and dragged it over to my bed. I unzipped the bag, and extracted my stealthy gear stash.

"Gotta get sneaky," I said to myself, sorting out my black pants and shirt. They were both padded, so I hoped that they would allow me to maneuver without snapping my brittle bones in half. At the edge of the bag, I grabbed the small microfiber bag that contained my Sly Profit paintball mask. I pulled the mask over my head and snugly fastened it to my face, then slid my shoddily-constructed electroshock gloves onto my hands. Realizing that I needed to get a move on, I walked outside, locked the front door, and ran over to my car.

The drive to the field itself was relatively uneventful, the only real inconvenience being the notorious game day traffic clogging up most of the major thoroughfares. Thankfully, I still had a little bit of cushion left, and was able to roll up to the dilapidated, possibly Cold War-era complex just as the digital clock on my dash struck 8.

Disembarking from my car, I took a brief survey of the surroundings, easily picking a crouched Henry out in the darkness despite his purportedly "sneaky" clothing. I skulked over to his position and saw that he was carrying his snazzy RC car, which he seemed to have rigged with some kind of sketchy-looking firework bundle.

"You ready?" Henry said, vigilantly snapping his head back and forth.

I swallowed, scanned the surroundings, and replied, "Yeah. You?" My friend nodded and pointed silently to the football field. The sports arenas were all contained within the same complex, which was great if you were either a soccer mom or a lanky doofus trying to be a ninja. I was the latter. We slinked across the small parking lot to the football field, where the audience's incessant shouting muffled every other sound.

"Alright, let me make this entirely clear, buddy, we split up if we get spotted. It's safer," Henry whispered. I shook my head in agreement, hoping that we wouldn't need this contingency plan.

I peeked at the current state of the game. The Grandview Hornets were already within field goal range, which would bring joy to any meathead in the town.

"Ready the car," I said. "If they go for a field goal, that'll give us one helluva setup."

Henry was already preparing his toy for the moment of glory. I gave the signal as the team prepared to kick the pigskin through the giant yellow salad fork.

"Alright, my child, prepare to be immortalized in the hearts of hundreds," Henry whispered as he comforted his favorite inanimate object. I thought I saw a tear roll down his face as he set the miniature vehicle in the launch position. The next moments were a blur.

The kicker lining up his shot...

Henry's fingers on the control sticks...

The sound of fireworks detonating as the car sped across the turf...

Stunned expressions and silence...

Our school team charging at us...

"FUCK!" I exploded. Panic coursed through my veins as the flight response kicked in and I sprinted like Usain Bolt high on caffeine. Henry frantically dashed away in the opposite direction, with a parade of sweaty and violent jocks.

"Get 'em!" I heard the quarterback order, his bellow accompanied by the grunts and roars of five other testosterone-filled muscle packs. Fear immediately shot through me as I turned and ran faster, the burn of fatigue already making its way into my thighs.

Henry was right. ArmA sprinting didn't translate to real life.

"Well, I have no choice," I mumbled as I grasped the power supplies mounted to my arms. The sparks flew as I prepared my most badass fighting stance. These intimidating monuments of manhood seemed to be SCARED of my device!

"Not so tough now, are you?" I swaggered cockily.

 _Snap!_

"Shit."

My confidence was replaced with sheer terror as one of my gauntlets shorted out, and the football team realized that no, I was not in fact the god of thunder.

Karma was a bitch.

"YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!" an overweight-looking cop yelled, running as fast as he could behind the pack of jocks. Fear turned to panic as I realized the gravity of the situation.

' _I can't go to jail!'_ I thought, my breathing quickening even more as I suddenly veered right, into the thick woods bordering the parking lot. A stray hand narrowly missed my shirt as I threw myself down the hill and through a densely-packed thicket, twigs scraping every inch of exposed skin as I tumbled down the slope. After several seconds of pain, I regained my bearings, rolling to my feet and sprinting away before my pursuers could make it down.

' _Thank God,'_ I thought, coming to a stop after what felt like an eternity of running. After devouring my emergency Pop-Tart and almost immediately vomiting said pastry as a result of the exertion, I finally dragged myself out of the woods.

I examined the surroundings, and recognized where I was. Daniel's Gun Shop, the ultimate headquarters for unnecessary firepower. I collapsed against the back wall and clinched my teeth as a killer side stitch ripped through my torso.

I was preparing myself for a well-deserved nap when, inexplicably, an eerie purple ray of light hit my visor. I instinctively turned my head toward the disturbance: a trippy spherical iTunes visualizer the size of a bowling ball.

"What the huh?" I grumbled. I had just spent my Friday night running from a gang of Incredible Hulks, and now I was apparently experiencing an LSD dream. Just as I started to move away from the mass, it began to expand and contract in a rhythmic pattern, increasing in size with every cycle. Before I could run away, the anomalous orb suddenly exploded outward, engulfing the entire store as my vision blurred and my consciousness slipped away.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke to a startlingly intense beam of UV radiation blasting through my window, and winced as my retinae screamed like a woman in labor. It was an average day in-

"Hold the phone," I grumbled as I pushed myself off of the ground. Instead of the bed in my house, I was resting on a bed of soft, green grass. Huge, towering trees surrounded me on all sides, against a cerulean sky. Birds darted between the treetops, filling the air with their jubilant songs, and a friendly breeze flowed across my head.

"This is bizarre..." I muttered.

My limbs seemed to be mostly intact, so I decided to enjoy the lucid dream while it lasted. To my left was the devastated Daniel's, more crumbly and decrepit than it usually was. The treacherous tumble through time and space had snapped the entire structure in half, allowing easy entry into the gun nut's dream. Deciding to follow the plotline of every Self-Insert ever, I slid through the massive breach in the wall to arm myself. As the hero of this insane hallucination, I would need some sweet weapons.

I emerged on the other side of the wall and nearly died after tripping on a misplaced rifle magazine. I tore through the overturned shelves and scattered wares like a kid in a candy store, filling a conveniently placed spare backpack that I found with pounds upon pounds of ammo and granola bars.  
I perused the selection of archaic-looking rifles and shotguns until a glass case on the undamaged wall caught my eye. Inside was an absolutely badass M4 carbine, complete with a OD green body, railed handguard, vertical foregrip, and a cool holographic sight.  
An awestruck "wow" escaped my throat as I took the weapon into my hands. It was surprisingly light, and it looked like it was straight out of Battlefield or something. I hoped that my extensive Wikipedia lurking would serve me well as I pushed a loaded magazine into the receiver. Using my skills acquired from watching tons of action movies, I smacked the ammo in with a satisfying click, and yanked the charging handle.

I placed my new toy on the sole structurally sound glass counter, and got back to pillaging. In what I assumed was the manager's office, I found a coyote-colored plate carrier with pre-installed anti-ballistic plates and a menacing kukri-style knife. If there was one thing that TV Tropes taught me, it was that "Kukris Are Kool".

After struggling with straps for ten minutes, I finally managed to equip my sweet new loot. I pointed the barrel of the M4 at the ceiling and stood in my best special forces pose. Feeling like a true champion, I strutted to the obliterated front of the store and took a bite out of my granola bar. Just then, I heard a blood-curdling howl. I turned to the right to see a massive black and bone-plated werewolf creature, its soulless red eyes silently deciding on the best way to tear my insides out.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, reflexively raising the rifle toward the werewolf. We stood there for a few seconds, eyes locked, when the abomination charged at me. I floored the trigger, the recoil bombarding my frail shoulder as the shots bounced around my new friend. I saw a spurt of blood jet from the creature's right eye socket as it entered striking range.

The joy of hitting my mark was displaced by a burst of blunt pain as the ebony hellhound pinned me to the ground. The blood evacuated my face as I fought in vain to escape the frigid claws currently digging into my body.

In an adrenaline-induced moment of desperation, I yanked the kukri out of its sheath and lodged the blade into the wolf's exposed torso. The monster barely flinched and slammed me into the ground again before taking a bite into my left arm. An agonized scream escaped me as my arm was ripped mercilessly into a horrible mess of sinew and blood. My right hand shot outward in a last-ditch attempt to find another usable weapon and met a cold metal shape.

A loaded pistol.

"Chew on this, asshole!" I roared as I emptied the handgun into the bony face of my attacker. Red mist exploded out of the beast's head as it fell limp to the side with a low moan. The corpse dissolved into a black smoke, which would have been absolutely shocking if I wasn't suffering from life-threatening blood loss. Searing pain ravaged my now-crippled arm as I stood myself up and examined the weapon responsible for my survival. I recognized the curved, iconic shape of an M1911 pistol, shimmering with the gore of the recently deceased monster.

"I'll be...holding on to this," I stammered as I holstered the pistol and picked my knife off of the ground. My head felt horribly light, and the edges of my vision turned blurry and black. I fell onto one knee, in an attempt to regain my stamina when I saw a huge cloud of birds flying away from the trees in front of me. A tear rolled down my face and into my mask padding as a gargantuan scorpion the size of a monster truck crashed through the vegetation.

"Must say, never… thought that I'd get killed by a giant scorpion," I wearied as I raised the pistol for what I assumed would be the last time.

I pulled the trigger and heard the distinctive snap of an empty magazine.

The ebony and ivory arachnid lashed out with a horrifying golden stinger, and I closed my eyes, forfeiting my life to this colossus.

I never felt the hit.

"Blake, cut the tail!" said a high-pitched female voice. The end of her sentence was followed by a volley of shotgun blasts, the sound of a sword slicing through tissue, and the ear-piercing screech of the dying monster.  
I looked up and saw what appeared to be a group of four girls, all more or less my age, engaging the scorpion.

Wait a second.

Evil bone-plated monsters that want to kill everything…

Werewolves…

Giant scorpions…

Four cute girls with awesome weapons…

This could only mean one thing.

RWBY.  
"What. The actual. FUCK?!" I asked myself, dropping the gun and collapsing back onto the comforting grass. I tried to wave at the team, but my sole functioning arm wouldn't budge, and I felt the effects of uncontrolled hemorrhaging as I slumped over into a warm pool of my own blood.  
"So...tired..."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, are you there, God? It's me, Aaron._

 _I almost never do this, but it's been a crazy day. Uh, thanks for the great Pop-Tart earlier, and that one s'mores flavor granola bar, which was delicious. I would also say thanks for transporting me into one of my favorite shows, but a huge chunk of my arm was eaten like a strip of bacon by a werewolf, so I'm not sure if I like this change too much. That, and nearly getting impaled by a monster scorpion isn't my idea of "fun"._

 _I'm sorry for the trespass that warranted this punishment: going outside. I promise that I won't ever do it again, and if I survive this, I won't ever let anyone else go outside and suffer the same fate. Amen._

I came to in what looked like an emergency room, complete with ECG machines and various buttons that would probably lead to my termination if I pressed any of them. The sanitary room smelled like a potent cocktail of hydrogen peroxide and rusty metal. My bed was surrounded by a standard green curtain, past which I assumed were other patients.

I glanced over at my crippled appendage, examining the various tubes and wires that were connected to it. The entire wounded area was covered by a layer of gel-like biological dressing. The wound still looked awful, but the pain had gone from unendurable torment to mild discomfort, and this made me quite happy for obvious reasons. I moved to poke the dressing when the curtains started to shift.

"He-looo!" said a young woman with cyan hair. Her white uniform identified her as a nurse, which meant that a barrage of sharp needles would almost certainly be piercing every corner of my body soon.

"Hi," I responded in the best enthusiastic voice I could muster. Enthusiasm was a rare commodity when you were missing a few pieces.

"You're Aaron, right?" the nurse asked, squinting at a plastic card in her hand. "Aaron...Carlyle?"

"Yes ma'am, that's me," I replied. "I think that's my driver's license."

"Well, just don't go driving in Vale," she laughed. "You lost a lot of blood so you're probably going to be a little dizzy, and I don't think this thing would even be valid here."

She had a point, not that I'd want to drive. I figured I'd get bowled over by another Paladin or something. Plus, she probably figured that my ID was issued in some back-asswards village somewhere rather than the back-asswards state of the U.S. where I resided, which wasn't a notion I particularly wanted to challenge at this moment in time. After all, there wasn't really any incentive to go around screaming about a country that didn't even exist to these people, and spending the rest of my life in a loony bin under lock and key was not exactly on my list of wild and wacky times to have before I bought the farm.

"Your wound was pretty bad when they brought you in," the nurse continued, "but you should be fine in a few days. We're going to be keeping you on campus until we're sure you're good to go."

"Campus?" I asked. I was fairly sure of what that meant, but for the sake of clarity, it had to be asked.

"Yep! Beacon Academy. The famous Hunter school," she replied.

"Yeah...Beacon. Right. Who brought me back?" I inquired. I knew the answer to that one too.

"Your rescuers? That would be Team RWBY," she answered.

It was confirmed. I was in RWBY. Never have excitement and terror felt so similar to me.

"Thanks for the information, ma'am," I said, breaking out the manners of the gentleman.

"No problem! I'm here if you need any medical help, but from here on you're free to roam campus within reason," she replied. "I'll be filling out some papers to hand to the administration, so just drop by if you have any questions!"

With that, she disconnected me from the machines and set out a new outfit on the bed. Khaki pants and a striped shirt, along with a pair of new skate shoes. I quickly got dressed and left the medical wing, following two students to the outside door. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

"Dude..."

The courtyard was even more aesthetically appealing in person than it was in the show. Huge groups of wide-eyed and eager new students travelled about in the shadow of the magnificently opulent towers archways, pillars, and other buildings and structures that made up the school. The excitement of these people filled the air, along with their idle chatting about boyfriends or girlfriends, classes, and other enthralling topics.

The sight of the academy campus in all of it's glory made me come to a realization: I am in a world where powerful magi-tech and monsters capable of leveling entire cities were normal parts of life.

This was a world where teenagers could fight with enough skill and power to best Navy SEALs who had decades of training, and the adults fighters here with decades of training themselves were many magnitudes more powerful than even that.

Yet, here I stood, with pasty skin, a crippled arm, and mild sociological conditions with no fighting skills and an extreme prejudice for flight over fight in virtually every scenario.

I was completely ready for this…

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I'm toast.


	4. Chapter 4

I retreated indoors after realizing that I couldn't really do anything vaguely interesting in the school, and decided that I needed sustenance as soon as possible. After pillaging the medical wing kitchen like a gang of Visigoths in 410 Rome, I devoured six bagels, a cold cut of some description, three churros, and a single slice of cheese.

Attempting to avoid diabetes, I stopped short of consuming the tempting lollipop stash and moved back to my humble curtain-wrapped base, collapsing onto the newly-made hospital bed as soon as I got in.

"You know, the Vytal Tournament is happening right now." I looked past the drawn curtain and saw the nurse from before, sitting at her desk.

'So we're at the beginning of Volume 3. Good to know.'

"Uh, what's that?" I asked, trying my best to sound as clueless as possible.

"...You seriously haven't heard of it?"

"I'm from… Outside the Kingdoms," I responded. I was banking on the possibility that people living outside the Kingdoms would be unaware of things happening inside the walls.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I should have known…"

"Don't be sorry, it's fine. Now, what exactly is the Vytal Tournament?"

"It's only the biggest celebration of the year!" She sounded far happier now. "I'd be watching the tournament matches right now if this wasn't my shift," she answered. "You can probably catch the next fight if you go now. Should be one to see."

"Cool," I replied. "I think that's exactly what I'll do."

"Remember to go easy on the arm," she said. "You only have so much blood, you know."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my fluids inside from now on," I replied. With that, I was off, eager to see the epic battle in person.

* * *

"You're kidding me."

"Sorry, sir, no entry while the match is in progress."

I grimaced and walked away from the Atlas soldier guarding the gate. I didn't brave the harsh sunlight just to get blocked at the door. Feeling defeated, I slowly moved over to one of the concession stands in hopes of getting more junk food. Nutrition was for chumps anyway.

"I'll take a bag of Dorit- I mean triangular corn chips coated in nacho cheese flavoring," I said, deftly recovering from my cover-blowing mistake. The concession man coughed like he was holding back a laugh before grabbing a bag of chips from under the counter.

"That'll be two Lien," he said, sliding the bag to me.

"This should do it," I replied as I pulled two crumpled dollar bills out of my wallet and placed them on the counter. The man looked down at my money in disdain.

"I don't want your crummy paper, kid. We only take Lien here."

Damn. Forgot about dollars not existing here.

"Oh, yeah. You can have the chips back. Sorry about that," I stammered as a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. The concession man just grunted and took the goods back, allowing me to leave with minimal hostility. As I walked quickly away from the stand, a mob of people from the stadium paraded out of the Colosseum entrance, indicating that the fights were now over.

"Well, rust in piss, fanboy dreams," I mumbled. I turned to walk back to my hospital dwelling when an enthusiastic female voice overtook the festival ambiance.

"Hey! It's that guy from yesterday!"


	5. Chapter 5

"...c'mon, get up."

Despite the fact that my vision was currently comparable to a large mug of pilsner, I managed to make out a flowing head of golden hair, radiant and shimmering beautifully in the warm sunlight.

That, and an open palm flying toward my face.

The shock wave rippled through my face, making my cheeks vibrate like a gelatin dessert plummeting from low-Earth orbit. A strong stinging sensation filled the right side of my face, bringing me back to semi-alertness.

"Shit! Son of a motherfu-"

I realized my mistake after examining the blurry image of my attacker. Brown boots, absurdly short shorts that would probably be frowned upon by old ladies everywhere, matching brown jacket...

Oh. Yang Xiao Long. What a surprise.

"Heh, sorry about that, but that guard over there looked pretty mad about you taking a nap in the middle of the festival grounds," said the blond bombshell standing above me.

"My face hurts," I whimpered, suppressing the fiery rage exacerbated by the massive red handprint currently spreading across my cheek. As much as I wanted to show my anger, I didn't really want to have my skull shattered by a superpowered boxer today.

"Heh, wimp!" She teased. "Name's Yang. What's yours, String Cheese?"

String cheese combined the tasty flavor and calcium of cheese with the simple fun of string.

There were definitely worse nicknames to get stuck with.

"Uh, I'm Aaron," I replied. Name trading was a great start to a friendship. At least, that's what Grandma always said to me back when I was in preschool. Sadly, asking the blonde to build snazzy castles with me in the sandbox probably wasn't a rock-solid plan here.

"Nice to meet you, Aaron! Come on, get out of the dirt so we can go meet the others," she said, outstretching her hand to grab my arm.

"Wait a sec-"

I attempted to protest, but Yang was already dragging me to destinations unknown. I was only a day or so into this adventure, but I already knew that there was no embracing this chaos.

The chaos was embracing me.

I more or less voluntarily followed Yang to one of the many food places set up for the Festival, where Blake, Ruby, and Weiss were waiting. Yang took a seat at the table, leaving me standing with the stiff posture of a cardboard cutout. After ten seconds of awkward silence, she reached over and yanked me down into the last empty seat.

"Well...um, I got him to wake up!" She said in a clear attempt to break the ice.

"I must say, you have a talent for passing out," said the bow-wearing Faunus girl seated in front of me as she peeked over a book.

Blake, team member who definitely hasn't ever hidden anything. Check.

"Yeah, you kinda just fell over back at the Colosseum," Ruby said with a nervous half-smile that clearly took immense effort to produce. At least she wasn't the only one having difficulty with this conversation. "It was really funny. Until we realized that we couldn't get you up, that is."

Ruby, adorable scythe-wielding weapons dork. Check.

That just leaves...

"Why were you sleeping in the middle of Grimm territory, anyway? Not only did you nearly get yourself killed, you left it to us to save you! Maybe if you weren't being a dullard, your arm wouldn't be held together with medical gel!"

...Ice Queen. Check.

"Weiss, be nice!" Ruby whispered. She reminded me of a frantic mother trying to keep her spoiled brat offspring from calling Santa Claus a faking asshole to his face.

"The quiet one reading the book is Blake, and that nerd right there is my sister, Ruby," Yang said with renewed enthusiasm, "And the icy one over there is Weiss."

"Hi, Aaron, my name is- wait," I stammered, eliciting a few awkward throat-clears from the team. Apparently my skills with females carried over to this plane of existence too. "Shit, that's not right..."

"...If you couldn't understand any of that, his name is Aaron!" interjected Yang, sparing me from any more self-embarrassment. I silently mouthed a "thank you" to her, and she shot me a thumbs-up in response.

"So, Aaron, is this your first time at the Vytal Festival?" Ruby asked, continuing the effort of eroding the Titanic-sinking iceberg often referred to as "first conversation."

"Uh, yeah, it is, actually," I replied with regained composure.

"Mine too. We're actually competing this year! Did you get to watch?"

"I guess I missed it. It's been a REALLY long day, trust me."

"Aww, that sucks. Well, we won our first match!"So we're just at the end of Episode 1. "That's...great! You guys must work really well together."

"Yeah, I think so!"

I was feeling pretty good. The group hadn't run away screaming yet, and that was a commendable victory in my book. Weiss still looked pretty salty, so I decided to break out the kindergarten-level small talk to smooth things over.

"Um, that's a really neat fencing sword..."

"It's one of the reasons that you're even alive right now, so yes, it's 'neat.'"

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here."

The heiress gave me a nasty look and pulled the classic bratty hair-flip, head-turn maneuver.

"I hate to leave this thrilling exchange, but I have someone to meet."

And with that, the renowned token tsundere of RWBY walked off to wherever as feelings of bitter defeat filled my mind. I was already screwing everything up, and I hadn't even been talking with the girls for more than ten minutes.

"Don't worry, she'll warm up. She always does," Yang encouraged, playfully slugging me in the arm. At least, I thought it was playful, though the dull blue splotch forming on my pathetic bicep told a different story.

That, or I was just a wimp with little to no durability. Probably the latter.

"Yang's right. She's actually nice, but she doesn't like to show that to strangers," Blake added as she closed her book and cracked a reassuring smile.

"Hey, Aaron, how old are you?" Ruby inquired suddenly.

"I'm seventeen."

"Really? That'd make you a first-year like us!"

"Uh...yeah! Freshman friends! Go team!"

I looked around the table to see the distinctive unimpressed expressions of the team.

"Heh, heh, am I right? No...? Man, tough crowd..."

"Well, it's getting a bit late, so we're gonna go back to the dorm," Ruby said while pointing at the copper-orange sunset.

The shattered moon and beautiful evening skies made me think of home and I wondered if anyone had noticed that I was missing. A pang of sadness hit me as I imagined everyone I knew endlessly searching for me, and eventually giving up as their predictions turned from finding me alive to finding a corpse, ultimately never finding anything at all.

To the outside world, I was already dead.

"...ron, are you coming?"

I snapped out of my melancholy to see Ruby waving at me from the other end of the field. The other two girls were running towards her, having what I assumed was a jolly old time judging from their laughter and comedic banter.

"Why the fuck not," I said to myself as I stood up from the table. I didn't really have anything better to do, and hanging out with the team was more enjoyable than I initially expected. Breaking into a sprint, I followed the color-coordinated companions toward the Academy, fighting hard against the fatigue that was already setting in.

"Tired already, wimp?" I heard Yang joke as she poked fun at my awful physical condition. It took some insane circumstances, but I was actually starting to speak to females! It was a miracle!

"You wish! I'm… just getting warmed up!" Good Lord did I hope I wouldn't regret saying that.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are you going to sleep tonight, Aaron?"

Blake had her priorities straight.

"I don't really know yet." I replied, feeling the drowsiness creep closer by the second.

Experiencing an event that would cause most people to experience an existential crisis could really take it out of you.

"Unless you want to take Weiss's bed, we don't have enough room for you. We have a LOT of stuff," Yang stated plainly.

"I don't think the bed-thieving is a good plan," I replied. "I think it would end with my severed head rolling across the floor."

"You could go talk to Professor Ozpin and see if he'll let you have a room," Ruby suggested.

"He's the Headmaster guy, right?"

"Yep! You can probably find him walking around the school right about now."

"Okay. Thanks for the pointers and whatnot. Good night, everyone."

The three girls reciprocated, and I quietly left the room. I didn't especially want to sleep on the stiff hospital bed again, so finding Ozpin was my new mission. I jogged briskly around the campus, scouring the classrooms and offices for the famously wise man with the wise plan, but he was nowhere to be found, not even in his clocktower office.

After around twenty minutes of searching, I gave up and shed a single bitter tear as I grabbed a newspaper to use as a blanket from a vending station. I was spreading the paper out on a bench when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was my lucky day. Professor Ozpin, in the flesh. An air of impeccable wit and years of accumulated wisdom permeated the area from his mere presence. This was an honor.

"Newspapers are for reading, Mister Carlyle, not for sleeping on."

"Uh, agreed, but I don't really have anywhere else to sleep besides the hospital," I replied, barely restraining my urge to ask for his autograph. This was like a day in Disneyland, but twenty times better.

"Well, I have heard about your arrival. Weiss was very… descriptive, to say the least."

The Ice Queen was at it again. Dammit, Weiss!

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Professor?"

"That is entirely a matter of perspective, Aaron," Ozpin chuckled, "but that is not the reason I have come to speak with you."

I didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.

"Come with me, Aaron. I have a friend who is eager to meet you."

* * *

I followed Ozpin through the maze of halls and corridors that made up the school until we reached an entirely separate wing of the school that I had never seen in the show. Classrooms were on both sides of the wide hall, but they seemed to be less like college lecture halls and more like laboratories.

I felt right at home.

"Here we are," Ozpin said as he placed his hand on a glass panel. The panel lit up on contact, displaying a perfect map of his handprint as overwhelming amounts of data moved across the screen.

 **IDENTITY VERIFIED. ACCESS GRANTED.**

The door slid open with a satisfying mechanical sound, the sound of perfectly engineered machinery working in harmony to open the path. Music, sweet music.

"After you, sir," I said. I had watched enough horror films to know that going in first into a spooky room is pretty much

a guaranteed death sentence. The professor and I entered the open doorway and arrived in a dimly lit workshop-classroom combination that reminded me somewhat of Mr. Wexler's class. Smells of metal and plastic filled the air with their aroma, hinting at the awesome science that undoubtedly took place here on a daily basis.

"Professor, your guest is here," Ozpin said, his voice echoing throughout the desolate room. The eerie silence returned after a few moments.

"He is most likely in his office. I will return momentarily."

I took the void left by Ozpin as an invitation to examine the partially completed projects that dotted the workbenches. On the nearest bench, a half-assembled tonfa-pistol combo rested beside a box of glowing Dust crystals. I reached over and picked up one of the shards, a fiery red one that was pleasantly warm to the touch, presumably Fire Dust.

I turned around to replace the crystal in its container when I was startled by a terrifying rat-like man wearing an eyepatch. The crystal plummeted to the ground and shattered into a wave of sparks, which I was sure would anger the scary pirate captain that snuck up on me.

"Salutations, Aaron Carlyle, I have been expecting you." Eyepatch said in a thick German accent.

Holy Jesus Christ this wasn't happening.

Ozpin had just handed me over to a Nazi scientist.

"Uh, hey," I muttered as I discreetly smothered a stray spark with my shoe.

"Aaron, meet Professor Emil Rosenthal," Ozpin said as he returned from the office."Gentlemen, I trust that you will get along well. I bid you goodnight."

The mechanical gate opened automatically for Ozpin and closed behind him with a metallic clank, sealing my undoubtedly terrible fate.

"You aren't going to dissect me, right?" I shuddered, taking two steps back from the scientist.

"Boy, do you honestly think that an eyepatch automatically makes me a villain?"

"It was more of the accent, really..."

Rosenthal sighed in disapproval as he opened another metal door at the other end of the classroom. He showed me inside and entered behind me. The room was a small study area furnished with wood shelving, various pieces of high-level scientific literature, and a large desk. It smelled like cigar smoke and evil. The Bond villain vibe was really on point with this man.

"So, Carlyle, tell me about yourself," the professor said as he cut a cigar and lit the end.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Your experiences at Beacon thus far, your arrival, things like that."

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, it's been pretty insane so far. I never would've thought that I'd ever actually end up at Beacon Academy of all places, either. I kind of just woke up in the forest, and the rest is history."

The menacing man took another long puff of the cigar and stared silently at the ceiling for what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute. He seemed dissatisfied with my response.

"Tell me, where do you hail from?"

This was it, the armor-piercing question. Time to once again put my dishonesty to the test.

"...Outside the Kingdoms. I don't come to Vale often," I said, doing my best to sound legitimate and to make my new story consistent with the older one.

"Mister Carlyle, I like you thus far, but I absolutely loathe liars," Rosenthal leaned in and burned into my soul with his sole functioning eye. "...and you aren't even a very good one."

"Wait, what? How...?" I leaned backward in my seat and prepared to make a break for the door.

"Calm yourself, I have no intention of doing you any harm. One moment, please."

He shuffled through a desk drawer until he pulled out a yellow folder filled with a huge assortment of papers and complicated graphs. The folder landed on the desk with a loud "pop" that scared the living daylights out of me.

"Aaron, this graph shows the levels of electromagnetic radiation around this place two days ago," he said, pointing at the jagged line on the page with a pen. "Now, if you will notice, there is a noticeable increase around the time that you arrived."

"Okay? Why does it matter?"

"It matters because this is not the first time such an event has happened. Do you remember seeing any strange sights, any...lights, perhaps?"

More questions. Just what I asked for. Merry Christmas, Aaron Carlyle!

"Yeah, I saw this weird purple ball...thing. I think it ate me, actually."

"Exactly! Now, examine this graph," Rosenthal said as he extracted another piece of paper. Unlike the last sheet, this one was crumpled and yellowing, indicating its more advanced age.

"...It looks the same," I stated in awe after comparing the similar graphs. They were almost exact copies, actually.

"This graph shows the amount of electromagnetic radiation observed at this school on the night of 23 September, 1985. That was the night on which I arrived here."

A revelation suddenly hit me like a flying brick. Was he from...?

"Wait, so you're..."

"From Earth? Yes, in the past, I was a physicist at the European Laboratory for Particle Physics before my event occurred. I must know: did the Soviets win out in the end?"

Hooray. I fulfilled my dream of being a history teacher.

"No, they collapsed in 1991. The Berlin Wall got destroyed too."

"Excellent. I once lived on the Western side of the wall. Did my colleagues ever successfully create antihydrogen?"

"I think so. You can't store it for very long, though, so it's not really use-"

Rosenthal suddenly jumped from his chair and threw a stack of papers into the air.

"Haha! I told them that it was feasible! 'No, Emil, that's not possible!' 'No, Rosenthal, you are stupid for believing that!' Well, who is the one laughing now?"

So THIS is what it looks like when someone discovers something groundbreaking in the scientific realm. It was much more...active than what I would've assumed.

"Ahem. I digress. I must return to my work analyzing this data, but you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish to," Rosenthal said, regaining his normal demeanor. "There is a storage room at the end of the laboratory corridor where you will find a sofa to rest on and the locker that contains your weapons. We shall continue tomorrow. Sleep well."

With that, he left the room, a wispy trail of cigar smoke following his path. I was quite tired at this point, so I decided to take him up on his offer of bedding arrangements. I felt my way down the dark hallway until I made it inside the storage room.

"Nice."

I immediately felt at home. Against the back wall was a worn leather couch with a pillow already positioned at one end, and against the other was the boxy shape of a locker. A single floral rug covered the bare concrete floor beside the sofa, and a cheap metal desk sat in one corner.

It was perfect.

I opened the metal box to take inventory and felt immediate relief when I saw my armor, guns, and mask waiting for me. Feeling satisfied, I closed the locker, plopped down heavily onto the ratty couch, and fell into a deep and restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

My peaceful slumber was interrupted by the piercing whine of power tools.

"Good morning, Remnant," I mumbled. I rolled off of the couch and shuffled down the hallway toward the source of the cacophony that so rudely ended my sleep. As I approached, I saw short bursts of blue light emanating from under the door.

"Professor Rosenthal?" I called as I opened the door. The man was hunched over a rolling desk, welding some enigmatic contraption.

"Good morning, Aaron," Rosenthal said through his lowered welding mask. "Follow me."

He put his blowtorch down and rushed over to a computer terminal in the center of the room, motioning for me to approach. He rapidly typed a string of commands into the terminal and pointed straight ahead to an unfurnished area of flooring.

"Witness."

Suddenly, four rectangular pylons started to rise out of the floor.

"Aaron, this is an experimental teleportation array. I have spent decades perfecting the design."

"Teleportation? Seriously?" I asked. That kind of technology was a stretch, even here, though I guess Neo and Raven could beg to differ. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"You will see. One moment, please."

He resumed his typing, looking more and more energetic with each press of the return key. Suddenly, a holographic screen grew and wrapped around the terminal, while various readouts painted the metaphorical canvas with their light-blue glow. The professor reached over to what looked like a slider and moved it to the 100% marker.

 **Pylon 01, Online.**

 **Pylon 02, Online.**

 **Pylon 03, Online.**

 **Pylon 04, Online**

"This is the culmination of decades of my work, and thanks to you, it will finally come to fruition."

The spires simultaneously fired what looked like purple lasers toward the middle of the floor, causing a burst of blinding indigo light to fill the room. Fluorescent lights exploded and showered the floor with glass, presumably due to the sudden power surge. One final flare marked the end of the fireworks, and I uncovered my eyes to see a minivan-sized purple orb.

"I call it the Rosenthal Bridge."

"You replicated the portal that sent us here? How?"

"It is quite simple," Rosenthal began. "I simply used the data collected upon your arrival and calibrated the teleportation array to match the anomalies that brought us here."

"So, where will this thing spit us out? Can you even control it?" I asked.

There was no way that this thing could actually be safe.

"The destination of the exit portal can be changed to any point, so yes, I can control it. This instance will transport us to the outskirts of Geneva. I intend to pay CERN a visit. I must share my findings with them."

"But Professor, what if they don't believe you? If you haven't noticed, you've been missing for thirty years!"

"It doesn't matter. Once I deliver the designs, all will be clear."

The scientist picked up a bulging satchel full of papers and measurements and walked toward the portal.

"Hey, wait!" I said, catching up. "You haven't been to Earth in, like, three decades. I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not! I am capable of navigating the city myself," he replied, pausing to tell me off. I, however, would not be so easily deterred.

"C'mon, think about it. A lot has changed, and unlike you, I actually know what's going on in modern times. No offense, but you're basically a geriatric with an eyepatch."

"I prefer the term 'senior' to 'geriatric', thank you very much!" Rosenthal retaliated. "Besides, your presence will make it significantly harder to enter the building without drawing suspicion. Remain here and monitor the array until I return."

With that, he swiftly entered the portal, leaving me alone with a possibly-unstable reality warping machine that I had literally no idea how to operate.

Because that was definitely a good idea.

* * *

Two dozen moderately-armed security personnel milled about the compound, their large and menacing machine guns glimmering in the light Geneva rain.

The entire city was under a heightened state of security to ward off any potential terror threats due to the escalating threat of terrorism, and the largest research center in the region was no exception to this rule.

On this gloomy day, Doctor Emil Rosenthal was determined to get his data into the right hands, hands that were one-hundred meters underground in a high-security laboratory.

"Halt!" Yelled one of the guards as he jogged toward the labcoat-wearing elder.

"I must enter the laboratory. I have vital data that must be delivered as soon as possible!" Rosenthal said. This was the kind of person the guard was instructed to watch for, but he decided to keep an open mind for now.

"Hold on a moment, I'll need to see some ID," the guard said.

Rosenthal complied and pulled his identification card from the back pocket of his khaki pants before handing it to the soldier that was currently preventing him from starting a new age in human history. The guard's eyes widened as he read the card.

"Sir… this card was issued in January of 1985. Do you have any more… recent paperwork?"

"Shouldn't that suffice?" the scientist replied, hoping that his card would still be valid after so much time.

"Er, no. Sir, 1985 was three decades ago. I'm sorry, but I can't let you in, not without valid papers."

Rosenthal grunted in irritation and checked his watch. He was nearly out of time, and there would be no swaying the guards today. He could already tell.

"...Very well. I will return soon. I apologize for bothering you."

With that, the eye-patched man walked away, defeated, into the gray mist. The guard rubbed his forehead, briefly considered calling this event in, and finally returned to his post to pretend that nothing had ever happened.

"...I need a goddamn promotion."

* * *

This was the most boring task imaginable. Portal machines were great for about half an hour, but the newness wore off after that. Now, it was just waiting in a dimly-lit pseudo-evil lair without any video games to play while my mad scientist friend was screwing around in Switzerland.

"Well… yeah, this is pretty lame."

I got bored, walked back to my "bedroom" and popped my locker open to inspect my stuff. A yellow adhesive note that said "Wear them now" was attached to my mask. Complying with the note, I slid the Profits over my head and onto my face.

"Dude…"

Instead of my normal and unaugmented vision, I was greeted by a cyan heads-up display spread across the visor. In one corner was what looked like a vital-sign readout which was currently blank, and in the other was a space reserved for teammate information.

I peeked back into the locker to find more goodies, and was not disappointed. Next to a row of pistol magazines was a forearm-mounted uplink which I promptly put on so that the blue backlit screen was positioned on the inside of my arm. Donning the device caused a recording of Rosenthal to play out of the earpiece mounted inside of the mask.

"Hello, Mister Carlyle. I congratulate you on successfully following commands that an ordinary poodle would struggle with. Now, please remain calm. This will only be painful for a few seconds."

"Wait, WHAT-"

Without warning, stabbing pain rocketed up my arm from the uplink, causing me to grit my teeth to avoid any vocalizations. The pain left as quickly as it arrived, and the condition monitor inside the mask began to display data.

"As you can currently see, your wrist unit has integrated itself with your body. Before you panic, I will tell you that it is removable. Furthermore, the unit will monitor your vital signs and actively update you on your condition. It is also capable of being connected to most computers and equipment, so adaptability will not be a problem for you. The unit includes a communications suite as well."

I admired my nifty new toys for a second before looking at my reflection in the mirror. For some reason, the mask lens was now completely transparent.

"Aww…" I muttered, disappointed that the professor sacrificed cool points for function.

"And yes, before you ask, the mask can be polarized. Check your uplink."

With that, the recording stopped. I poked an icon resembling the lens on the screen, and stared in awe as the clear panel changed to an opaque, reflective orange color.

I removed the mask after a few minutes of playing with the awesome features, and reentered the laboratory upon hearing the telltale sounds of Rosenthal's return.

"Hey, how was your trip to Geneva, Professor?"

The professor's eye seemed to dim slightly at this question. "Unsuccessful. I was unable to go past the front gate, unfortunately."

"Damn. Sorry, Professor, that really blows," I replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Thanks for the neat new stuff, it's pretty cool."

"You're most welcome, Aaron. Consider them housewarming gifts."

He suddenly pulled a brown paper bag from behind a bookshelf and reached inside, revealing an unopened bottle of fine wine. Reaching into the lab coat, he drew a Swiss army knife and used the integrated corkscrew to open the drink, which immediately filled the air with its strong aroma.

"Marvelous."

"Wait a second, Prof. I don't think getting drunk is a good idea with all of the, you know, explosive things lying around."

"Nonsense!" the professor suddenly exclaimed as he poured a glass. "I promised myself that I would drink this once my experiments succeeded. Crafted from ingredients grown in Mistralian vineyards, bottled in the winter cold of Atlas, and now it rests here, ready to be enjoyed!"

"Alright, whatever. You're an adult. Have fun getting wasted, Professor."

He took a sip and puckered tightly. "I must say, this is much stronger than the wines at home..."

"Old bastard. Who needs a working liver, anyway?"

I returned to my locker and checked the time.

1:35 PM.

"Jeez, that early? Wow."

Deciding that I needed to actually hone my combat skills before another Beowolf spotted my delicious flesh, I grabbed the M4 and my pistol, as well as a few magazines of ammunition, and walked outside to practice my marksmanship.

I practiced for what must have been several hours, researching techniques and familiarizing myself with the science of ballistics, but saw almost no improvement in my accuracy, which was definitely not a great thing for a guy living in a world with evil monsters everywhere and every other weapon was also a gun. I was reloading for another go at the still-intact target when I heard Ruby's voice behind me.

"Whatcha doin', Aaron?" she asked as she dashed over to my side, leaving a wave of rose petals in her wake.

"Target practice. Sadly, I still suck."

"Maybe I can help! Let me watch you."

I reluctantly accepted the offer and readied the rifle, feeling its weight press into my shoulder. I brushed a stray petal off of the gun and started to pull the trigger.

"Wrong. You haven't even zeroed your sights."

"That's a thing?" I asked, puzzled. Since when do guns need setup?

"Here, like this," she said, showing me how to adjust the holographic sight. "There. Now try it."

She handed the carbine back to me and watched as I got into firing stance. She critiqued that, too. After what felt like an eternity of adjustments, I finally pulled the trigger, and felt overwhelming achievement as a bullet hole appeared on the target's bullseye region.

To confirm that I was no longer the epitome of inaccuracy, I repeated twenty-nine more times. All of my shots hit somewhere on the target.

"There, now you have it! Great job!" Ruby cheered as she raised her hand for a high-five, which I promptly returned.

"Thanks for the help, Ruby. Seriously, I owe you one." I said, packing up.

"No problem! If you're hungry, you can come meet us for dinner."

"Okay. If you guys don't mind, I'll tag along, I guess," I said nervously. Even though it wasn't really a date, I had just been invited to dinner.

'Henry, you should see me now.'


	8. Chapter 8

I returned to the lab to stash my weapons and make myself presentable. It didn't take long for me to realize that I had no idea what I was doing. "Dinner" with the elusive alien beings known as "girls" was a new challenge, and with every challenge comes the inevitable panic associated with preparing for it. I didn't have any new clothes, so I just stuck with the standard attire I already had on.

"Alright, Carlyle. You can do this. Just a few waifu- I mean girls. Yeah, this'll be easy..."

I exited the lab and ventured out into the magnificent courtyard, taking a moment to marvel once again at the architecture student's wet dream better known as Beacon Academy. The show didn't do it justice.

"Animation budgets, why are you so low?" I asked silently. "Alright, now to go to the dorm."

I turned around and took a single step before a sudden realization hit me like a charging rhinoceros.

I had no idea where the dorms were.

"Damn. RT could've just posted a map, but nooo..."

I aimlessly wandered around the courtyard for a few minutes, but couldn't find any maps or signs that would be of any use in my mission. This was a problem that I had very little time to solve.

"Okay. Step One when lost...find authority figure. Let's do this."

A quick scan of the surroundings confirmed, to my dismay, that I was alone. Well, except for the single tumbleweed that decided to show up and taunt me. Damn comedic devices and their cheap timing.

"Seriously, they need to put in some map kiosks out here..."

I looked up at the moon and groaned. No waifu dorm invasion for me. Hell, it was going to be a miracle if I could even find a bathroom in this damn place.

"...Oh, Yatsuhashi? Yeah, he's SUCH a DREAM! Like, oh my gosh!"

My head instinctively snapped left toward the two school uniform-clad walking stereotypes that were currently leaving the main lecture hall. The other girl nodded her head in agreement, saying something about "those fine abs" or something to that effect. I looked down at my own torso and sighed in disappointment as I counted my slightly less "fine" ribs through my shirt.

Yeah, no picking up chicks tonight.

"C'mon, let's go up to the dorm. We can watch the new episode of Vytal Idol! I hear someone is getting voted off tonight..."

"Wait. Did they just say...dorm?" I thought as an amazing new plan dawned on me.

Follow the females to the dorms. Restraining orders couldn't be so bad, right?

I stared down at my wrist and poked some icons to make myself look busy as the girls walked casually past. The duo eventually stopped at an impressive-looking building and entered, allowing me to follow in unnoticed.

"Oh, middle school crush-evasion skills, your uses know no bounds."

I hung back and took cover behind a conveniently-placed vending machine as the two boarded the main elevator. One girl took her Scroll out of her purse and tapped it against the control panel as the doors slid shut with a low hiss.

A heavy breath escaped my mouth as I slinked out of the vending machine's shadow and advanced toward the elevator call button. The button depressed with a click, and after a few tense moments, the lift arrived.

"Okay… let's think here. Multiple floors, four grade levels… ah, fuck it, let's just press all of them."

Like a small child, I ran my hand across the entire panel and lit up every single button. Instead of going up, however, the lift merely produced a single beep and refused to do anything else as the panel screen prompted me for a student I.D.

"Let's see if this works."

I held my wrist against the panel and held my breath as it scanned my data.

 **INVALID CREDENTIALS. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.**

"Okay then. Here goes..."

 **INVALID CREDENTIALS. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.**

"Lame. Alright, time to phone a friend."

I tapped the small phone-shaped icon on my wrist unit and selected the one contact I currently had: Professor Emil Rosenthal, PhD. The "phone" rang three times before the call connected and Rosenthal's voice came through.

"M-Mister Carlyle, what do you require?" the professor said, his slurred speech tumbling out like spilled marbles.

"Professor? I need the dorm access codes-"

"Professor this! Professor t-that! It n-n-never stops! Y-you should get your o-own access codes f-for once- oh...oh dear..."

I facepalmed as the sounds of alcohol-induced vomiting came through my PDA. This was going to get me absolutely nowhere.

"You've got to be shitting me. I've got to go, Professor. I'll bring you back a ginger ale or something."

Before the drunken scientist could respond, I ended the call and started to probe around the panel for any structurally vulnerable pieces. While splicing into a piece of dangerous hardware was a horrible idea, I was pretty sure that I had nothing to lose considering my fairly poor life expectancy with monsters running around.

"Okay, now where did they put the fuse box on this thing..."

"...Do you need some help?"

"Oh, uh, nah. I'm goo-"

I turned toward my surprise guest and was stunned by what I saw. Golden Greek armor, crown/tiara/headpiece thing, vibrant scarlet hair, Grade-B Zettai Ryouiki if you're following Henry's train of thought...

Pyrrha Nikos.

"Uh...come in?" I half-asked, half-invited. The Spartan-like girl was standing in the elevator doorway with an awkward and clearly-forced smile that immediately told me that tampering with elevator electrical systems was probably not a socially acceptable practice. I stepped to the side to allow her into the elevator and silently thanked God for bringing someone with valid I.D. along.

"Are you going to the first-year floor as well?" she asked politely as she scanned her Scroll on the panel. I nodded "Yes" and the elevator started a moment later.

"So...you're Pyrrha Nikos, right?" I inquired. Though, in my over excited fanboy mind, it was sounding more like "OH MY GOD IT'S PYRRHA! PYRRHA PYRRHA PYRRHA"

"Yes...that's me," she responded, like she had been asked this question approximately ten thousand times before. That was probably because she had been asked this question approximately ten thousand times before.

"Oh man, this is SO cool. My best friend is a HUGE fan of yours. He has you set as his desktop backgrou-"

 **DING**

The doors slid open smoothly, cutting my cringeworthy statement off. Then again, some things were best left unfinished.

"I didn't get your name," Pyrrha said as a friendly gesture before stepping out of the lift.

"OMG SHE WANTS MY NAME HENRY IS GONNA BE SO JEALOUS"

"Um...Aaron. Aaron Carlyle," I said, doing my best to resist my urge to get an autograph. Of course, I could then trade this autograph for Henry's PowerGlove...oh, bartering. Gotta love it.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Aaron. Until next time."

She exited the lift and walked down the hall to one of the many unassuming doors and unlocked it with her Scroll. Since we had already said goodbye, I walked down the wrong hallway on purpose until the coast was clear to avoid any awkward happenings. After the JNPR door had been closed for a minute or two, I knocked three times on the adjacent door and prayed that it was the right one.

"Aaron! Glad you could make it!"

Miracles do happen after all.

"Hopefully slapping me in the face won't be necessary tonight, Yang," I replied.

"Hey, I said sorry! Not my fault that napping isn't allowed everywhere."

"You could say that this joke is becoming...a hit."

"Even I think that one's bad, String Cheese."

"You're really stringing the knocks on my physique ou-"

My entry-level puns were abruptly ended by another friendly slug in my arm, which conveniently hit the mark left by the last one. At this rate, it was going to be a miracle if I could lift my arms in the morning.

The bruiser moved aside and showed me into the famous room, complete with OSHA-unfriendly bunk beds and clashing tastes in decor.

"Hi, Aaron! We were just about to leave, so you made it just in time!" Ruby said from one of the top bunks. The ropes that held the bed up creaked under the strain as I tried to figure out how these things hadn't collapsed yet.

"So...what's for dinner?" I asked. "I'm starving over here."

"We wanted to go get pizza, but Weiss is being a stick in the mud," Yang complained as she showed me a small, colorful slip of paper. "We even have coupons!"

"Well, excuse me for caring about our team's health!" Weiss replied. "I think that hearty, nutritious salads would be a better choice, considering that we're moving on in the tournament."

Blake looked up from her Scroll and turned to me. "Aaron, what do you want to eat? You're our guest, so you can decide."

"Pizza!" Yang exclaimed, her fists pumped into the air like rockets.

"Salads!" Weiss countered.

I looked at both girls. Man, this was going to be a tough choice-

"Wait, can't you get a salad at the pizzeria?" I asked. Life was all about compromises, after all.

Weiss groaned in defeat, then muttered, "Fine. Let's go."

"Yeah, go Aaron!" Yang exclaimed, grabbing me yet again by my poor abused arm and dragging me out the door, presumably followed by the rest of the team.

* * *

After short Airbus ride, RWBY and I arrived in scenic downtown Vale. The night gave way to some spectacular city lights, and an impressive fireworks display lit up the sky with streaks of flashy reds and blues. It was much like a postcard.

Yeah, a postcard. "Hi fam, just chillin' with the RWBY crew. Wish you were here."

Since I had no idea where I was going, I made it a point to stay as close to the team as possible. Safety in numbers, after all.

"So, where are we going, Yang?" I asked as we walked. "Is it going to be one of those really crappy cheap pizza joints?"

"...Crappy pizza joint? CRAPPY PIZZA JOINT!?" Yang yelled suddenly as I jumped backwards, startled. The blonde reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled coupon before pointing at the picture on the front. "This is no crappy pizza joint, Aaron. This is Perry's Pizza, the ultimate pizza shop with every single arcade game known to man!"

"...Well, most of them, anyway."

"Wait, this place is an arcade too?" I asked excitedly. I was starting to go into game withdrawal, so this place was a godsend.

"Yep! Skeeball, air hockey, things like that," Ruby chimed in as the pizza shop drew closer. The place was contained within an old-looking brick building covered in neon signs that reminded me strongly of a seedy pub.

Just my kind of place. Plus, greasy food and video games? Count me in!

"Here we are!" Yang announced. Deciding to use my good manners, I walked up and opened the door for the team as they filed into the restaurant one by one. The restaurant was filled with the muffled sound of jazz music and the profound scent of sizzling pepperoni pizza in the oven.

The bare brick walls were lined with an impressive variety of video game cabinets, each painted with vibrant art and begging for my quarters. The place was mostly empty except for the owner, who busily hopped around the kitchen from task to task.

In fact, I seriously half-expected Guy Fieri to come hurtling through the doors.

"Heeey! Yang! How's it goin'?" The owner yelled from the kitchen.

"Hey, Perry! How's business been?" Yang replied.

"Look around ya. Everyone's out at the festival, so things are pretty slow if you hadn't noticed. You want the usual tonight?"

The blonde gave Perry a casual thumbs-up, and he immediately started making "the usual" as we took our seats at a wooden raised table.

"Aaron! Wanna play some games?" Ruby asked with wide-eyed excitement.

"Are you kidding? Heck yes!" I replied as I followed the crimsonette to one of the many arcade cabinets. This particular one, a game called Skyranger, displayed a pixelated graphic of a Nevermore being pursued by a fighter jet-like craft. I wanted a poster already, and I hadn't even started the game yet.

"Have you ever played this game?" Ruby asked.

"Nah," I replied. "How do you play?"

"It's easy!" she said as she slid a quarter-Lien chip into the slot. The game started immediately, and wave after wave of Nevermore sprites formed a huge block formation the upper screen.

"Just press this button to shoot, and move the control stick to dodge the feathers. Simple, right?"

"Yeah. I think I've played something like this before," I said. "Mind if I go first?"

"Not at all!" Ruby replied, relinquishing control of the game to me. It played almost exactly like Galaga, and as Henry would tell you, I was damn good at Galaga. "Wow, you're really good at this, Aaron!"

I must have cleared at least twenty levels before our pizza finally arrived at the table. With a disappointed sigh, I stepped away from the game and allowed my tiny spaceship to explode under a barrage of Nevermore projectiles.

"That's one big pizza," Blake said, awestruck by the disc-shaped behemoth that was now covering our table.

"Are you sure we can eat all of this?" Weiss asked. That was a valid concern, considering that this pizza must've been at least two feet in diameter.

"Well, one way to find out," Yang said as she pulled a massive slice away. "Dig in!"

I pulled a slice from the pie and was surprised by the sheer scale of the piece. I needed both hands to support the weight of the melting cheese and piles of toppings. I was already approaching critical mass by the time I finished a single slice, and there were still many more to go.

By the time everyone had consumed two slices, Blake and Weiss were completely catatonic, Ruby had an absurdly-long cheese tendril hanging from the corner of her mouth, and Yang was still going strong somehow.

Meanwhile, I was pretty sure that I would violently explode and level two city blocks if I ate another slice.

"...Yang...how do you do this?" I asked, my head resting on the table.

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice," she replied. "I'm pretty full, though. You guys ready to go?"

No response.

"Okay, then. One groan means yes, two means no."

As the sound of a single united groan echoed across the table, I knew then and there that I was going to like it here.

That is, if I didn't have a heart attack from the twenty pounds of saturated fat I had just consumed.

* * *

It was a quiet night in the dorm. Just the way Cinder Fall preferred it.

For years, she had been lying this plan: recruiting followers to her cause, gaining resources, even going so far as to claim a portion of the Fall Maiden's power. Years of preparation had led up to the coming days, and a smirk crossed her face as the thought of it crossed her mind. She idly formed a small fireball in her hand as she examined a few Atlesian weapon designs on her Scroll.

 **Alert: New Access Point Available.**

She snuffed the fireball out as the access point connection was established. Self-satisfaction filled her as this "Rosenthal" character's data was stolen, bit by bit and file by file. She opened a prominent-looking directory, and her eyes widened as she looked over the contents within.

Environmental data, radiation charts, technical specifications, power requirements. A sea of numbers that were all connected to somewhere called "Earth."

"Interesting..."

She minimized the tab and hastily placed the Scroll up to her ear as her eyes lit up with devious inspiration.

"Get Adam on the line. I have something that he will want to see."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, I woke up on the couch and let out a deep yawn as I sluggishly pulled myself out of "bed." Thanks to the events of the night prior, I had resolved to never eat a pizza again unless it was absolutely necessary to avoid starvation. With the agility of a sloth in molasses, I dragged myself over to my locker-mounted mirror and marvelled at my crisp, sharp appearance.

That is, if by "crisp" you mean covered in yellowish grease stains, and by "sharp" you mean wearing the same shirt for three days in a row.

"Damn, and I thought the Professor was the one who was supposed to look like crap," I mumbled as I smoothed my messy hair into a semi-presentable sweep. I needed a shower, some clean clothes, and possibly a few Aspirin, desperately.

"Well, I'm now officially the biggest slob at Beacon. Better go hunt down a washing machine or something."

I shuffled out of my supply closet dwelling, showered quickly to avoid giving off a less pleasant variety of "Aura", and went into the lab. As the door slid open, I froze in shock.

The place was a complete wreck.

The floor was littered with takeout food boxes, shredded pieces of paper, and empty styrofoam cups. The normally pristine whiteboards were covered in a mess of incomprehensible scribbles that somewhat resembled equations if you looked at them just right.

In the middle of this chaos was a randomly placed pile of blankets that rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, like a series of breaths.

"Wait a second. Breaths..."

Following this thought, I yanked the top layer of the pile off and recoiled backward as a certain belligerent and disheveled German shot up like a rocket. The man's bloodshot eye darted around the room for a few seconds before the sudden shock of awakening wore off, giving way to a more lethargic state.

"Good morning to you… Mister Carlyle. P-please excuse the rather chaotic scene here…."

The scientist stumbled about the lab for a brief time before slumping down into a desk chair at the computer terminal. Taking note of the obvious hangover, I hastily slid a trash can to the terminal to avoid an acidic catastrophe.

"Morning, Professor. How was that wine?" I asked.

"Delicious. That is, until the absurdly high levels of alcohol neutralized my sense of taste," the professor answered.

"Well, that's good...I think," I said. "Hey, do you know where I can get some fresh clothes? I've been wearing these for way too long, and I'd like to get into something clean. Soon."

"Why is this suddenly an urgent matter, Mister Carlyle?"

"Well, I, uh, have sort-of friends now, and..."

The professor suddenly started to laugh quietly to himself for some reason. "Carlyle, do these 'sort-of friends' happen to be of the opposite gender?"

For a hungover guy with a missing eyeball, Rosenthal was very observant.

"...Yeah. They are."

"In that case...yes, some new attire would be appropriate. I suggest travelling to the city; the shopping district is quite vibrant."

"That was the plan," I replied as I pulled out my empty wallet. "It's a shame that I have exactly zero Lien to my name."

"I may be able to help with that. One moment please."

The professor stood up from his desk chair and shuffled into his office, returning with a small, rectangular plastic card. Hopefully, unlike Earth, this card wouldn't charge 20% interest and firebomb my credit rating like Dresden.

"Here you are. You may use this for any supplies you need. Ozpin generously created an account for you, but it is by no means a blank check. Use it wisely."

I took the shiny silver card and slid it into one of my wallet's card sleeves. Man, it felt good to not be a poor bastard for once.

"Thanks, Professor. I'm gonna go ahead and go before the crowds get too wild."

With that, I left the lab and ventured to the Airbus dock, ready to tackle the labyrinth of wrinkled fabrics and persistent salespeople known as "fashion."

* * *

"Welcome! Can I help you find anything?"

People like this were the reason why I ordered all of my clothes on Amazon.

"Nah, I'm good," I replied to the saleswoman who had descended upon me like an osprey the minute I walked through the clothing store doors.

"What sort of look are you going for?" she persisted, apparently deciding to ignore my previous statement. Such is the case when commission is a huge source of your wages.

"Uh...just something pretty normal. You know, average stuff for an average guy."

"I have just the thing. Follow me."

I resisted the urge to make a break for the exit and followed the employee to what appeared to be the only part of the store that contained any clothing that DIDN'T look like a really cringy fanfiction OC ensemble. Capitalizing on the selection, I grabbed a week's worth of generic white shirts, dark khaki pants, and a hooded gray sweatshirt to keep the cold out (or to keep the heat in, if you prefer correct usage of the laws of thermodynamics).

Feeling quite proud of myself for picking out clothes without my Grandma's help, I carried my haul to the counter and pulled out my wallet as a different male employee scanned each item.

"That'll be 127.50, sir."

I reached into my wallet, extracted my card, and smirked as I slid it toward the cashier. Instead of sliding the card through the scanner, however, he just paused and looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

"Sir...we don't accept cards from this "Dave & Buster's" bank. In fact, I've never seen a card like this at all…"

Oh. Dammit, I really needed to watch what I was doing.

"Whoops...hehe. Here's my actual card. Sorry about that," I recovered, taking the Dave & Buster's Power Card back from the cashier and exchanging it for my valid card. This time, a weird look was averted, and after a short time in the changing room, I walked out of the store better dressed and ready to impress.

"Okay, mission one accomplished. Now to find something moderately productive to do."

The Airbus glided to a stop, and the doors opened up into Beacon's courtyard. By this point, most of the students were out and about, since it was about mid-morning judging from the position of the Sun. After briefly contemplating the fact that this Sun was not the familiar yellow dwarf that I was used to, I decided to attempt to improve my combat skills, if only by a small margin.

After returning to my room, I reached into my weapons locker and decided to practice my bladed weapon skills, since I was eventually going to run out of standard Earth ammunition if I kept wasting it like this.

Besides, I really wanted to learn how to wield the oddly-shaped knife effectively, since melee combat was a large part of Remnant's combat. I hooked the sheath onto my belt and set out to the training room.

Wherever that was.

* * *

As one would expect, the journey to Remnant had taught me many truths about myself.

One of these was that I sucked at melee combat.

My clumsy kukri swings were a sharp contrast to the experienced and battle-tested skills of the Huntsmen- and Huntresses-in-training that I was currently sharing the training room with. While I did manage to hit my target dummy and cause some damage, it wasn't much consolation since Grimm didn't just sit and wait to be split in half. Despite the dull burn of lactic acid in my pathetic arms, I continued my attempts to learn some form of useful combat skill.

After all, you never know when fate decides that you've outlived your usefulness.

After a few more minutes of potentially being the laughing stock of Beacon, I rammed the knife through the dummy's facial region and took my classic "Seat of Defeat" position next to it.

"Damn, this is harder than it look-"

"Aaron!"

Oh no.

I turned my head and spotted the rapidly-approaching Queen of Mean, Weiss Schnee.

"Yes, Weiss? Can I help you?" I replied, fatigued.

"I was watching your fighting style, and I was…less than impressed, to put it nicely."

Not like that was a surprise. Hell, I was pretty sure the dummy wasn't impressed, and the poor thing had eight inches of steel buried in its skull.

"Well, I'm not exactly an expert, Weiss. I don't fight very often."

"Clearly."

This was getting a teensy bit annoying.

"Well, excuse me, Sweetness. I'm not corporate royalty with years of cushy rich-kid combat school training under my belt like you, so cut me some slack. Seriously."

The heiress looked slightly taken aback by this remark.

"Are you saying that I'm spoiled?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip. "That I didn't earn my position here?"

"That," I replied, automatically taking the defensive route, "is up to interpretation."

"Hmph! Well, you can just stay here and continue on with your drunken slashing, then. Goodbye, Aaron."

At the end of this sentence, Weiss turned away and started to walk off as Yang's words played through my head.

"Don't worry, she'll warm up. She always does."

It was time to do something really stupid.

"Weiss! Wait up!" I exclaimed as I got up and jogged after the white-haired fencer.

"What do you want?" She asked in the usual hostile tone that I was already growing used to.

"I thought about it, and there's no denying you have a lot more experience and skill than me. So, I was wondering if you could maybe...teach me? How to, you know, not die and stuff."

The heiress looked away for a few seconds, heavily considering this proposal. Her expression softened slightly as she turned back to me, which made me smile a little. Where was my achievement notification?

"...Yes. I can teach you a few things," she replied, "but I won't hold back."

"Good enough for me."


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you ready, Aaron?"

I was not ready. Not at all.

"Uh, I guess?" I replied as I looked back on my rather poor life choices. Namely, my choice to not wear my body armor to the training room.

"Okay. We'll start with a practice duel to see where you stand."

"Can we skip it? I mean, you've already seen my skill lev-"

My poorly-executed attempt to avoid resembling a container of sandwich meat was abruptly cut off by the audible sharpness of Myrtenaster. Weiss drew the blade and moved into combat position, a determined look filling her blue eyes and piercing through my fake courage like a hot knife through butter.

Kind of like how Myrtenaster would pierce my flesh.

My fear rose and escaped my mouth with a girlish screech as I imagined something much more important to me getting abruptly cut off.

"Weiss!? Please! No live weaponry!" I shrieked as I backed away from the heiress.

"No live weapons? Why? Your Aura would protect you from any serious injuries, you ignoramus!" she responded with an unimpressed grimace on her face.

"Uh, yeah, about that," I said. "You see, I don't think I-"

"Take this," Weiss interrupted, handing me an old wooden training sword. "If you don't want to use real weapons, we can use these."

I looked down at the unwieldy and splintering sword, thanked the heavens for sparing me from a grisly and gory demise, and put myself into the best Jedi stance I could muster.

"Are you happy now?" Weiss asked. I looked at her annoyed expression and shrugged. Some people just aren't patient enough to allow five minutes of stance corrections.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Well, as ready as I ever will be."

With blinding speed, Weiss entered her perfectly coordinated stance, her blunt sword poised to pummel me into oblivion. I gulped and stepped back a little before hitting the ropes of the ring.

I could already tell that this wasn't going to end well.

As I cowered in fear, Weiss conjured a set of white glyphs, no doubt setting up a flashy and incredibly painful attack that would be significantly less fun to experience in person. Without so much as flinching, the heiress shot up into the air and ricocheted off of a second glyph toward me at incredibly high speeds. I didn't have to do the math to know that this would hurt.

"FUUUCK!" I screamed as I jumped out of the way, narrowly dodging the attack. Before I could realize what amazing evasive maneuver I just executed, Weiss turned and sent me across the ring with a low strike to my abdomen. I grabbed the opposite ropes to pull myself up and clenched my teeth as blunt pain shot through my side.

"...Jesus, Weiss, let's slow down a bi-"

Without a word, Weiss dashed forward and initiated a close-range duel, her sword locking with mine as raw adrenaline flowed through my veins. As I bared my teeth in primal instinct, the white-haired girl's face remained stoic as her surprising strength began to overpower mine.

"The Grimm won't 'slow down' for you, Aaron. Why should I?" Weiss said as she broke the blade lock and struck again. I barely blocked the hit and staggered back as my depleted stamina began to catch up with me. One last blow marked my fate as Weiss's sword flew toward my face in slow motion, giving me one final moment to accept my incoming demise.

CRACK!

A watery blur filled my eyes as I fell to the ground with a dull thud. The last of my adrenaline left my bloodstream as my face hurt more and more with each heartbeat. I placed my hand on my face and was immediately stunned as a warm liquid ran across its surface.

My blood.

"Oh Christ! Weiss…I think it's broken," I groaned as I attempted in vain to stop the bleeding. A constant flow of blood ran out of my nose and across my lips, causing me to cough as the metallic taste filled my mouth.

"Calm down and tilt your head forward," Weiss said with a significantly more sympathetic tone than before. "I'll get the first aid kit."

After a few stressful moments of watching my hemoglobin-rich liquid dribble out onto the boxing ring floor, Weiss returned with a red box of assorted first aid supplies. She opened the box and hastily rummaged through it before pulling out a piece of folded gauze.

"Here. Take this and put-"

"-it on my nose while applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Yeah, I earned my First Aid merit badge too, Weiss," I finished, my gratitude sheathed in a thin layer of sarcasm.

"Goodness, Aaron! You know basic first aid! I'm impressed!" Weiss replied with equal sarcasm.

"Come on, I'll take you back to...wherever you're staying."

This was going to be a beautiful friendship. A friendship filled with somewhat witty comebacks and blunt force trauma, but a friendship nonetheless.

* * *

"Professor? You in here?"

My voice echoed in the desolate and cave-like lab. Rosenthal was either passed out in the lab, passed out in the bathroom, or passed out somewhere else on campus. The possibilities were equal parts endless and squicky.

"How do you live in here? I can barely see where I'm going!" Weiss complained.

"Meh, you get used to it," I said, adjusting the wad of gauze over my nose. The bleeding had almost stopped, but it wasn't safe to remove the dressing yet. Blood doesn't wash out of clothes easily, and this was a brand-new white shirt.

"Where is the professor?" Weiss inquired as she scanned around the room. "I'd like to meet him and explain myself if I'm intruding into his laboratory without permission."

"He's not gonna care," I stated as I opened my room's door. "...Probably."

I entered the storage room and stashed my knife in the locker as Weiss waited outside. Deciding to check the progress of my wound, I removed the gauze pad from my nostrils and grimaced as a new trickle of crimson flowed out.

"Jesus, this is one persistent nosebleed." I muttered as I dabbed gently at my nose, which began to sting slightly. "I mean, what do I fucking look like, a harem protagonist?"

As I shut the locker door, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"I've been meaning to ask: why haven't you used your Aura yet?" Weiss asked with a mix of concern and curiosity in her eyes.

"Uh...I guess I didn't think about it," I lied. "As I'm sure you figured out, I never went to combat school."

"I see. Stand still, Aaron."

With little warning, Weiss approached and placed her hand on my cheek as I frantically crammed the gauze into my nose. Blood was gross, and I really didn't want to gross her out any more than I already had.

"Take a deep breath. You need to focus."

I mentally released an excited squee as I realized what she was doing and what cool things were in store for me.

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality,"

'Healing factor!'

"Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all."

'Force fields!'

"Infinite in distance and unbound by death."

'Game breaking powers!'

"I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."

'FLIPPING PHYSICS THE BIRD! OH MAN THIS IS GONNA BE SWEET-'

"...It didn't work."

"Wait, what!?" I asked, panicked. "What do you mean!?"

Weiss took a moment to catch her breath before replying. "I mean that your Aura didn't unlock! I don't know why, it just...didn't."

This was utterly confounding. I was pretty sure that I had a soul, and considering that a fucking ROBOT could use Aura, nothing should have stopped me. That is, unless Dad was a Grimm, which would warrant some serious thought on my existence and possibly a lifetime of therapy to remove that mental picture.

"Is that a bad sign?" I asked. "Am I screwed for life or something?"

"I doubt that. I'm sure that it'll come eventually-"

The door suddenly opened, causing my heart to skip a few beats as I saw who was responsible.

Rosenthal.

"Aaron! Visitors!? In MY laboratory!?" The professor boomed. "And what exactly is going on here?"

"Uh...I can explain," I stammered. However, Weiss intervened just in time, saving me the effort and embarrassment of explaining this situation.

"Professor, Aaron had an injury in the training room. We returned here at his request immediately after, so I couldn't ask for your permission beforehand."

The professor sighed and rubbed his head as he shuffled out of the room. "Very well. Next time, please be sure to have Mister Carlyle notify me before you enter."

"Interesting," Weiss said after the door closed. "The eyepatch is a bit intimidating, to say the least."

"Yeah, he takes some getting used to," I replied.

"Well, I have somewhere to go, so I'll be leaving now," the heiress said as she opened the door and stepped out. "Be sure to keep putting pressure on your nose. Until next time, Aaron."

With that, I was back to square one: alone in my room with a lot of nothing to do and all day to do it.

Just like old times.


	11. Chapter 11

Mountain Glenn. A dense sprawl of concrete and steel that once housed millions. Now, it stood as a crumbling monument, a relic forever resigned to the pages of Remnant's blood-stained history.

Until today.

The thin, business suit-wearing White Fang lieutenant gazed across the bustling courtyard-turned-base of operations. His light brown rabbit ears twitched quickly as the cool afternoon air washed across the rooftop, its soothing sensation doing nothing to calm his nerves. When his superior, the legendary and infamous Adam Taurus, assigned him to Mountain Glenn, he assumed that it would be another by-the-books planning and organization job.

It was anything but.

Normally, the White Fang would send him to "improve efficiency" in their various cells, and the numbers showed why he was their go-to planner. One of his more exemplary career achievements was a particularly successful bombing in which seven Schnee Dust Company executives were turned into red mist on live television. Since his departure from his dead-end job with a Faunus labor union, the hare Faunus had prided himself on completing any job, no matter how complicated or difficult it may have seemed.

But this? This was insane, even by White Fang standards.

A strong gust of air carried a wave of brick dust across the roof as a group of three Bullhead transports descended from the skies above the outpost. Two of the aircraft were outfitted for combat escort, their metal hulls dotted with various defensive weapons and countermeasures, while the last dropship was devoid of any attachments except for a single unassuming shipping container.

The Faunus professional moved toward the stairwell as he brushed a few specks of dust off of his shoulders and straightened his coat in preparation to meet the delivery crew. The package had arrived, and the pieces on the board were all in position.

All he needed to do now was give the word.

* * *

"Hey, Professor? What're you up to?"

Professor Rosenthal grunted in irritation as he lifted his welding mask. "Aaron, I'm in the middle of a project. Can you perhaps leave and go play with your lady friends for a while before you break something important?"

"But I've already done enough 'playing' today," I replied as I pulled the gauze away from my nose and examined the brown stains of dried blood. "It didn't go very well."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "Regardless, if you don't want to be involved with my work, please leave. Idle chat does not help me focus in the slightest."

I saw a golden opportunity here.

"Wait, who said I wasn't interested?" I asked, excited by the possibility of gaining an internship under an honest-to-God mad scientist.

The professor paused. "You want to assist in my work?"

"Hell yes!" I exclaimed. "I was taking and really loving an engineering class in school, but this runs circles around that stuff."

"I see. Well, then. Come along."

* * *

"Is it ready?" The hare Faunus asked, his eyes focused on the operator of the strange device that had been set up in the middle of the courtyard. The area was now nearly empty after a hasty packing of all vital material, leaving only a handful of men and a very spacious staging area.

"Nearly. We only need a little more time."

"Good. Activate the device as soon as your preparations are complete."

"Will do."

* * *

"Yo, Professor? I've been meaning to ask you something since I got here," I said as I looked down at the disassembled Dust power cell on my workstation. While Remnant circuitry didn't seem to be very different from Earth's, it was a helluva lot more complicated to work with for the first time, and my amateur-level skills were really showing as a result.

"What is your question, Aaron?" Rosenthal replied, his eyes locked on the dissected specimen littering my desk as he took a puff from his cigar.

"If you were a physicist on Earth, how come you have so much knowledge on building stuff?"

"Think about it. This is a world where millions, perhaps even billions of bloodthirsty monsters could lurk around every corner," he said, his thin finger thrusted toward his eyepatch. "You adapt, or you die. It's simple, really."

"Point taken."

I stood up from the workstation and stretched. Sitting in one place for long periods, while very comfortable, could get old after too long. I let out a deep yawn as the hours of physical and mental activity caught up with me, and contemplated taking a nap. The relative peace of the lab was perfect for unhealthy sleeping habits at this moment, which made me quite happy.

Suddenly, however, the silence was broken by a sinister beeping sound, an alarm of some sort. My gaze shot to the source of the disturbance, a computer in the corner. The screen was flashing red, and a tangled mess of readouts and data ran down the UI like a waterfall.

Something told me that this wasn't a good thing.

"That is...strange," Rosenthal said in a concerned tone as he approached the terminal.

"What's strange?" I asked, my voice growing slightly louder.

The professor read the data feed for a few moments and froze suddenly. "A malfunction, perhaps? No..."

"What's going on? Talk to me, Professor!"

Without so much as a single response, the German shot over to his whiteboard and started to work a convoluted and incomprehensible equation of some kind. As he approached the end, he stopped and sketched a rudimentary drawing of Earth.

A nameless fear awoke in my heart as he drew a circle around the North American continent. After a few more tense moments, he drew an X on the upper corner of the continental U.S.

"Seattle? No, that cannot be correct."

He double-checked his math, reworking the equation to confirm whatever his findings were.

Same result.

"Dammit, Professor! What the hell is happening?" I yelled.

Rosenthal paused, took a deep breath, and said something that sent an icy chill through my spine.

"Aaron, somebody replicated the portal to Earth."

"What?! Do we have any locations or anything yet?"

"According to my sensor data, the entry point is within Mountain Glenn's borders. The exit point is somewhere in the vicinity of Seattle. I am afraid that we have no additional information beyond that."

A sinking feeling emerged in my gut as I thought over what had just been said. A defenseless city of more than 650,000 people was about to be overrun with ravenous Grimm. The death toll would be enormous if someone didn't stop the attack in time.

We couldn't let this happen.

 _I_ couldn't let this happen.

I knew what I had to do.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, things are starting to get intense.** **As always, feel free to review and leave your thoughts and critiques if you so desire.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I was planning to post this in a day or two, but I'm still experimenting with my posting schedule so you get an early chapter this time. Happy birthday. I will say that this is where things start to go FUBAR, so this chapter hopefully reflects the change. You have been warned.**

* * *

It was an uncommonly beautiful day in Seattle. The afternoon sun's light poured between the towering downtown buildings, bathing the streets in a warm glow that made everything seem noticeably more upbeat and positive.

Well, everything but the parking ticket that Officer Damian Mitchell was currently adhering to some poor sap's windshield.

"Hey! Wait a sec!"

The uniformed patrol officer turned his head toward the young woman currently sprinting toward him. An amused grin slid across his face as he crossed his arms and prepared for the inevitable crying session. Some people would do just about anything to get out of a ticket, and Mitchell considered the theatrics to be a perk of his job. "Supporting the arts" as he called it.

"Ma'am, is this your car?" He asked. He already knew the answer, but protocol was protocol.

"Uh...yes, sir," the woman replied, her demeanor changing to a faux-bashful one.

Mitchell shrugged. "You parked in a handicapped zone without a permit. Sorry, but I've got to give you a ticket."

"Oh...I'm really sorry, officer. I didn't know. Can I maybe, you know, get a warni-"

"Nope," the cop interjected. "I've seen this car in this same space all week. I was hoping that you'd realize by now, but looks like that didn't happen."

As he anticipated, a trickle of forced tears began to flow from the girl's eyes, turning the layers of makeup on her face into a runny mess. Mitchell rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses, unimpressed by this thinly-built facade.

"Look, lady, that's not-"

Before he finished his sentence, an ear-piercing screech echoed down the street. The passing crowds paused, their heads turned in shock and horror toward the origin of the sound. Mitchell gaped, stunned.

An owl-sized crow was perched on a distant streetlamp, its blood-red eyes moving madly behind a bone-like mask that made it's head look like a pteranodon skull. It sat motionless, its chilling gaze darting around before finally fixing on a target.

His head.

With unnatural speed, the bird suddenly took flight and dove toward Mitchell, its razor-sharp talons pointed outward and ready to tear into his flesh. Reflex and training kicked in as he reached for his holster, drew his handgun, and fired two shots in rapid succession. The bird crashed into the ground harmlessly a few feet away as the officer breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dispatch, I've just been attacked by a massive bird. It's dead now, so the threat to civilians is negated. Can you send Animal Control to dispose of the body?" He reported into his radio handpiece.

No response.

Mitchell shrugged. It was probably just a malfunction. Nothing to worry about, right?

Deciding to investigate the attacking animal, Mitchell nudged the corpse with his shoe and recoiled back in shock as the creature inexplicably started to dissolve into a black haze, leaving nothing behind except for two now-flattened pistol rounds.

"Shit, I must've hit the coffee too hard," he mumbled to himself as he examined one of the spent bullets. The small crowd that had now gathered around him was eerily silent, with no sound except for the clicking of smartphone cameras. "I'm just as confused as you are, people. Please stay calm-"

The silence was shattered by another loud noise, this time a pained scream as a bystander's chest was impaled by a massive feather. Order turned to panic in the blink of an eye as the crowd rushed away from the scene in all directions, leaving the doomed man to drown in his own blood as another group of the strange bird-creatures flew through the street.

Suddenly, this day didn't seem so good.

The officer fired into the air, killing a few of the birds but doing nothing to the overall size of the flock. They grew closer with every passing moment, a sinister cloud of black feathers, white bones, and utterly soulless red eyes, all determined to feast upon him.

"Holy shit!" He yelled as he continued to fire. One of the ravens shot by, tearing a hole in his uniform's sleeve and leaving a nasty laceration on his upper bicep.

Gritting his teeth in pain, he gripped the wounded area and started to run away from the swarm, reloading his gun as he did so. While he was looking down, another bird rammed straight into his back, knocking him down onto the warm pavement as more of its brethren piled onto him, preventing any escape.

This was the end. He could already tell.

A strained cry escaped his throat as a sharp, ravenous beak tore into his abdomen. Three more of the monsters followed suit, their maws fighting over a bloody length of intestine. His face bloody and distorted with pain, Mitchell summoned one last burst of willpower as his red-tinged hand shot out to his discarded pistol, his grip shaking as he brought the cold metal up to his left temple.

With one final breath, he clenched his teeth in eternal defiance, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger as the world went dark.

* * *

"I'm going in."

My firm statement echoed through the lab as I asked myself if I was actually serious. Honestly, I didn't have the answer yet.

"Absolutely NOT!" Rosenthal roared as his hands slammed onto the table. "Your death would be almost guaranteed! What would throwing your life away accomplish, Aaron?"

"Professor, we have to do something! Seattle is fucked if we don't help!"

"So what is your plan? March in with your piddly weapons and save the day? This isn't a video game, boy! There are no resets!"

"My plan? My plan is to protect those people!" I yelled. "You'd think that an instructor at a Huntsman Academy would agree with me!"

The scientist breathed deeply and rubbed his forehead, his voice changing to a more subdued tone. "Aaron, there is a fine line between heroism and stupidity. It is better to learn that now, before crossing it leads to even more death."

"...You're right," I conceded. "But those are our people. That's not Remnant getting attacked, that's Earth! That's HOME! They don't have Aura, or any of the advanced weaponry needed to take down most Grimm. It would be a massacre!"

"That may be our home… but there is little that we can do. The Grimm are entering Seattle by the thousands, and, to be frank, we cannot simply charge into the fray and reasonably expect to win."

Rosenthal stared solemnly down at the floor, the hope draining out of his eye. I stood in silence for a few moments, weighing my options and hoping for some miracle.

"No, you can't. Not on your own."

Rosenthal and I turned our heads simultaneously to see Ozpin standing in the doorway.

Apparently, miracles did happen.

"Headmaster Ozpin?" Rosenthal said, surprised by Ozpin's sudden appearance. "I see you received my message."

"I did, and from what I heard, you two seem to be discussing what action to take in this situation," Ozpin stated. "I'm here to tell you that you won't have to face this alone."

"What do you mean? That's kinda cryptic-"

"Headmaster? You asked for us?"

The answer to my question arrived in the form of a certain red-hooded reaper, Crescent Rose attached to her waist. Weiss, Yang, and Blake followed Ruby into the lab, each of them carrying their various weapons.

Combat loadouts. That could only mean one thing.

"Team RWBY. I'm glad to see that you arrived so soon. Where are Teams JNPR and CFVY at this time?" Ozpin asked, causing me to skip a few heartbeats. Apparently, I'd be working alongside twelve of the best warriors Beacon had to offer, which was a very exciting prospect when there was a very good chance of me dying a horrible death by the Grimm.

"We just saw them. They should be here pretty soon," Blake answered. Her prediction turned out to be spot-on, because Jaune suddenly burst through the doorway, his breathing labored from running a little too fast on the way.

"We're….here! Sorry if we're late, Headmaster," the blonde boy said, still catching his breath. "Everyone, you can come in now!"

Our group turned into a crowd as CFVY and the rest of JNPR entered the room. Things were starting to get a little hectic, and Rosenthal didn't seem to entirely approve.

"Ozpin," he said quietly, "do you think that involving these children is a sound idea? If so, I am inclined to disagree."

"Emil, they can handle this," Ozpin replied. "In addition, I believe that Mister Carlyle would certainly prefer to be in the company of a group that he actually knows."

"You know how I feel about sending a party in. Disregarding the obvious risks involved, there is no guarantee that their presence will improve the situation."

Ozpin placed a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "I'm aware of your concerns, but we have a responsibility to protect those who cannot protect themselves, no matter where they may be."

I found myself nodding in agreement to this statement as the headmaster turned to the assembled group of students. Knowing that the legendary and wise Huntsman agreed with my resolve filled me with a sense of courage, a feeling that I hadn't truly experienced before.

"Students, I have gathered you here today for a crucially important task, a task that will change the course of history."

"For centuries, we, the inhabitants of Remnant, had considered ourselves to be alone, existing as the sole intelligent civilization in the vastness of our universe. We now know this to be false."

"So what does that mean? Oooh, have we been invaded by aliens?" Nora chimed in, a radiating air of gleeful insanity accompanying her outlandish inquiry.

She had no idea how right she was.

"I wouldn't consider 'invaded' to be the correct term, but yes," Ozpin responded. "In fact... what if I told you that there are two of them in this room right now?"

Oh crap.

For the last few days, I had been living it up, enjoying the benefits of following what was essentially a basic plotline in every Self-Insert fanfiction ever written. Almost nothing was expected of me, I got to experience many things that I would have never dreamed of, and I even got to meet, hang out with, and befriended a few of my favorite "fictional" characters.

Now, here I was, at the next step of the basic plot, the dreaded event that I tried so desperately to avoid: explaining that I was, in fact, an alien from a world where fact and fiction were two completely separate facets of reality.

It was funny how things could change like that.

Everyone seemed rather confused as the meeting transformed into a guessing game. I attempted to look as unsuspicious as possible, but my hiding in plain sight was interrupted as a pair of steely blue eyes met mine.

Weiss saw right through me.

"Aaron? Are you…?"

"Uh… I can explain," I stammered as fourteen pairs of eyes suddenly and unnervingly locked onto me. I found myself at a loss for words as the Schnee heiress walked up to me.

"Why didn't you tell us!?" She yelled.

"Look, I thought that I'd end up in the loony bin if I told anyone! Really, can you actually say that you would've believed me if I said something like that right off the bat?"

"Well-"

"That's enough, Miss Schnee. Professor Rosenthal, would you please activate the device?" Ozpin commanded. Rosenthal obeyed with an audible grunt as he keyed in the activation commands. After a few moments, the room was bathed in purple light as the portal sparked to life, the three teams amazed by the spectacle

"This, students," Ozpin explained, "is the gate to another world, one very different from our own, yet very similar at the same time. Professor Rosenthal and Aaron are visitors from this world, a planet known as Earth."

I half-expected a joke about how "Earth" was a terrible name for a planet, but the room remained almost silent. I couldn't blame them; this was probably a lot to take in.

"Yeah…" I said. "It's different, alright. No Grimm, no Aura, no Dust, no Semblances, nothing."

"I will go straight to the point: the White Fang have created a portal like this one in Mountain Glenn, allowing countless Grimm to attack one of Earth's cities," Rosenthal added. "The people in the immediate vicinity of the exit point are defenseless against their onslaught."

"That is where you all come in. Your mission will be to assist in the defense of the city until the flow of Grimm has been stopped. If any of you wish to opt out, do so now," Ozpin concluded.

"We're in," Coco volunteered as she adjusted her sunglasses. I was elated at this: we'd be needing that extra firepower.

"We'll help. We'd disgrace the good name of the Hunters if we didn't do anything," Jaune said heroically. Faux or not, it was pretty damn awesome, especially since his team was sticking their necks out for the homeworld of a guy they had just met.

"All of us are going. Those people need us," Ruby stated. She looked over at me for a moment, smirked slightly, and turned back to Ozpin. "And, above all, Aaron's our friend. We've got his back."

Ozpin looked very pleased. "Very well, then. Aaron, do you still wish to go with them?" Ozpin asked. I had to weigh my options carefully here: play it safe and wait, or fight alongside my friends.

That was an easy one.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

I dismissed myself to the storage room to arm myself. I took a look around, promised myself that I'd return, and retrieved my weapons and armor from the locker. As I strapped the plate carrier on, I thought back on how much things had changed.

A few days prior, I was goofing off with my friend and playing pranks on the football team.

Now, I was about to willingly walk into the fight of my life for the lives of thousands.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and slid my mask over my face. The HUD lit up, its blue glow serving as a small reminder that I was still alive for now. A shudder rippled down my spine as I walked back to the waiting group of Hunters-in-training.

"Alright. I'm ready."

"Aaron, I have a contribution to make to this mission," Rosenthal said. "Follow."

As the gang checked their weapons and prepared for combat, I followed the scientist to a heavy metal case in the corner of the room. The doctor keyed in a code onto a small, square keypad, and the case opened with a low hiss.

"This," Rosenthal said as he held up the content of the case, a football-sized metallic cylinder, "is the Bridge Interference System, or BIS. When activated, it will destabilize and collapse all open portals within a five meter radius. If you want to save Seattle, you need to close the breach, and this is the key to doing just that."

The doctor handed the BIS over to me, allowing me to examine its silvery shape. One side of the cylinder held a small timer with a keypad for setting it, while the rest of the device's surface was smooth and devoid of any markings.

"When you reach the portal, place it in the vicinity. If the device functions correctly, it should result in a near-immediate collapse."

"Alright. Thanks, Professor," I said. The professor stretched his hand out for a handshake as I stashed the cylinder in my rucksack.

"Good luck, Aaron," he said as I shook his hand for what was likely to be the last time. "It has been a pleasure."

Rosenthal and I walked back over to the portal device as Ozpin finished his mission briefing. The students looked eager for a fight, probably as a result of an amazing Ozpin-brand motivational speech. I resisted the urge to wet myself in glee and regrouped with RWBY at the front of the line.

"Alright, this is it! You ready, String Cheese?" Yang asked, her eyes alight with excitement.

"Ready as I ever will be," I replied as I polarized my mask lens. The portal began to pulse with bursts of light as Rosenthal signaled for us to enter.

A heavy pounding started in my chest as the situation sank in. I was about to enter a place infested with horrible demon-like monsters that wouldn't hesitate to kill me on sight. I quickly purged these thoughts from my consciousness; there were people dying every second, and I couldn't afford to waste any more time.

With one last inhalation, I looked back at the lab, pulled the charging handle on my rifle, and jumped into the portal.

* * *

 **A/N: Aaaaand** **, back to Earth we go. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I also hope that you stick around for what happens next. Feel free to leave a review if you want; I always enjoy reading them.**

 **And, before we reach the end, it's time reply to some of the reviews you guys left.**

 **Harbinger: I'm glad you like the fic! I'm trying really hard to avoid the pitfalls associated with this kind of fic, namely the awful OP Gary-Stu madness that's so easy to fall into in this fandom. As for the energy shielding, I'll only say that the Aura problem will be addressed in the very near future.**

 **zeldawolffang: Yeah, I was thinking about that. I don't think the show has really addressed the perception of Aura, but I'd assume that having none would make things slightly easier in stealth. Then again, the Faunus have night vision, so...**

 **Krazyfanfiction1: Thanks, I think. Hopefully it's the good kind of "interesting."**


	13. Chapter 13

As the Bridge spit me back out onto my homeworld, I was struck by a sudden realization: Rosenthal's portal placement was absolute ass. The guy had somehow managed to forgo the hundreds of available flat spaces, and had instead opened the portal right at the top of a very steep hill.

A hill that I was currently tumbling down at high velocity.

Rushed barrages of expletives flowed out of my mouth like a waterfall as the impossibly sharp rocks abraded and stabbed almost every inch of my body, my speed only increasing as the unwavering force of gravity decided to fuck me over. The tumbling continued until I crashed into a conveniently placed sedan parked on the side of the road, setting off the anti-theft alarm in the process.

"Fuck me, dude. Hope nobody saw that," I muttered through my dust-coated facemask. I grunted in pain and frustration as I pulled myself up to my feet and looked back up the hill at the still-active Bridge.

"Any fucking day now, guys."

As if in immediate response to my remark, the twelve Remnant natives came through, each of them managing to safely descend the hill without making fools of themselves.

That is, all of them except for Jaune, who ended up smashing into the already-abused sedan that I hit. I cracked a grin and offered my hand to the downed knight. Even as of Volume Three, after taking a level in badass worthy of a Shonen protagonist, he would always be our loyal butt monkey.

"Same thing happened to me. Hills suck, dude," I said as I pulled him up.

"Yeah. I still haven't perfected my landing strategy," Jaune replied, one hand rubbing the back of his head. Man, he had no idea how lucky he was to have Aura, not having to worry about snapping his femur in half and tearing an artery to bits if he landed wrong.

"I saw," I replied jokingly. "I'm Aaron, by the way. You know, if you didn't hear Ozpin say my name back in the lab."

"Jaune. Jaune Arc," he introduced himself. These introductions were pretty redundant, as I essentially knew every single dirty secret of every single character here with them being cartoons and whatnot. Couldn't let them know just yet, though; I wanted to delay exposing that little tidbit for as long as I could.

In the meantime, we had a mission.

"Everyone, on behalf of the United States of America, the People's Republic of China, the Russian Federation, the United Kingdom, and all the other hundreds of countries on this planet..."

I never thought I would say this. This was some crazy Hollywood stuff, too outlandish to be real. Hell, I was talking to a group of fictional teenagers who fought monsters and high school problems alike on a daily basis. Who cared if I used a cheesy line or twenty?

"Ladies and gentlemen…welcome to Earth."

"...Okay? So what do we do now?" Yang asked.

"Professor Rosenthal gave me this thing," I answered as I pulled the BIS out of my bag. "It'll collapse the portal if we get it close enough."

"Which means that we'll have to fight our way through," Weiss added. "Wonderful."

My wrist-mounted PDA lit up suddenly as I examined the BIS cylinder. A compass-like indicator appeared on the screen, the arrow pointed straight down the street from our position.

'Guess that's how we're gonna find it. Now all I have to do is survive long enough to get there.'

* * *

"I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am."

The group of vigorous five and six year-olds erupted into a chorus of claps for today's special guest reader in their school, oblivious to how special the guest truly was.

The guest was none other than the Commander-in-Chief himself.

A muffled laugh left the president. Unlike many individuals on Capitol Hill, these children actually enjoyed his presence. He closed "Green Eggs and Ham" and reached down for another Seuss book, but was interrupted midway by a tap on his shoulder.

"Mister President, there is situation," the Secret Service agent whispered. "We need you to come with us ASAP."

The President paused, shot a reassuring smile to the class, and turned back to the agent. "A situation? What kind of sit-"

"Not here. The Secretary of Defense is waiting aboard Air Force One. He says that the situation is dire, and that it's 'something big'."

* * *

The Boeing VC-25. A heavily modified and well-fortified marvel of aerodynamic engineering built to transport the POTUS and his staff in safety and comfort, allowing the administration to govern even when thousands of miles away from Washington D.C.

Now, once again, it was the most important command and control aircraft on the continent.

The President walked hastily through the corridors of Air Force One, a stoic expression on his face. His guards had refused to reveal any information on the nature of this "situation" thus far, causing him to worry about the multiple unthinkable possibilities.

"Right this way, Mister President," another Secret Service agent said as he opened the conference room door quickly, closing it behind him once the Chief was inside. The Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Homeland Security stood up from their plush conference chairs as the President came in and took his own seat.

"Talk to me, people. What's going on here?" The President asked.

The Secretary of Defense spoke up. "Mister President, I think this is better seen than explained."

The President's eyes widened as the plasma screen came to life, displaying a poor-quality image, taken from high-altitude, of a dark-violet orb surrounded by a cluster of skyscrapers. Pouring out from this orb and through the streets was a thick river of blackness that awoke a nameless fear in the hearts of everyone at the conference table.

The image was captioned, "Seattle, WA."

"What am I looking at?"

"Sir, that is what appears to be, in the most vague terms, a portal. Whatever it is, it's spewing thousands of some kind of, and I quote, 'monsters' into Seattle as we speak. We're already getting reports from law enforcement and first responders of widespread collateral damage," The Secretary of Homeland Security explained.

"Well, what are our options?" POTUS asked, his calm demeanor still holding despite the circumstances.

"I just got off the horn with Lewis-McChord. They can have boots on the ground in two hours or less," SecDef stated. "If we can set up a perimeter, we can buy some time for other courses of action."

"I second that," Sec Homeland agreed. "Only other option for containment is bombing, and that's not a very good one in my book. Your call."

The President sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating and attempting to keep his wits about him. He somehow knew he'd be needing them again very soon.

"Send them in."

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, this is a very short chapter. I plan to upload the next one very soon, though.**

 **Writing the POTUS scene was a bit difficult, but I hope it turned out well enough for your tastes.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14

Blackjack. A classic card game perfect for those uneventful days when there was nothing to do but sit on your ass and wait for orders.

PFC. Norman Marlowe hated blackjack.

"Man, that's bullshit," the red-haired loader said in disappointment as he slid his poker chips forward. He'd been on a losing streak since he got assigned to this crew, and his wallet was starting to feel a bit too light for his liking.

"That's the game, man," said the dark-skinned soldier across the table, his burly arms wrapped around an impressive stack of chips. "House always wins."

"No need to rub it in, Mac," Marlowe replied jokingly. "Next time, I'm dealing."

Sgt. Jamil "Mac" MacMiller was a man with legendary skill on both the poker table and the battlefield. There wasn't, to Marlowe's knowledge, a single wheeled or tracked vehicle on the face of the planet that Mac couldn't drive. His true skill, however, rested in the crew cabin of an M1 Abrams tank. He could make the sixty-three-ton behemoth go pretty much anywhere he wanted, and that opened up quite a few options for the squad.

But he mostly seemed content with robbing his hapless newbie crewmate blind.

As the cards slid across the cheap folding table, the door opened, causing the two soldiers to freeze in their seats.

"What did I tell you two about this?" The grizzled veteran in the doorway barked.

Marlowe spoke up. "Uh- Sergeant Adams! We were just-"

"Private, you know how I feel about gambling," the commander, SSgt. Garrett Adams, said in a strict tone that made the newbie shudder. You could tell by his slightly graying hair and stubble that he'd been at this for a while, and his position as commander of the tank crew reflected that. His slowly-advancing age had mellowed him out slightly, but he could still fight with the best of them.

"...You do not, under ANY circumstances, start the game without me. Deal me in, Mac."

The private let out a sigh of relief as the two more experienced men laughed uncontrollably. He was pretty much the laughing stock of the crew at this point, but at least he wasn't going to receive a disciplinary action. However, with one more player in the mix, it would be his pocketbook taking the hit.

"So, you two seen the Lunchbox yet?" Mac asked. "They just finished sticking on that sweet new reactive armor, and it's pretty damn nice."

The squad's M1A1, which they named the Lunchbox, was a beautiful piece of hardware. Thick armor plates, machine guns, and a 120mm gun that could reduce solid concrete to rubble. Adams had spent more of his life in that tank than any cubicle or office, and he still loved every minute of it to this day.

"Yep. Looks like we've gotta wait on the CROWS for a few more weeks. Damn greedy A company took 'em all," Adams replied.

Suddenly, the door swung open again, causing Mac and Marlowe to freeze in their seats. Unlike them, Adams kept shuffling through the deck of cards, unfazed by whoever was now standing in the doorway.

"Guys! Y'all need to come quick," the new guest said in a Southern accent.

"Donny! Glad you could make it," Adams greeted. "You're just in time to lose some cash."

Specialist Donald Troutman, the resident gunner of the Lunchbox crew. The guy could operate the main cannon like a wizard, turning objects into dust with a few child-unfriendly magic words and a well-placed tank shell.

"Sarge, they're gearing up for a fight out there. Something's going on in Seattle."

* * *

We continued for a few minutes on our trek through suburbia, our only companions being the occasional pieces of paper or garbage that decided to tumble by in the wind. Our current location seemed to be entirely abandoned, without a single living thing in sight. It was pretty fucking creepy, actually.

"Damn, where the hell is everyone?" I asked, my voice echoing through the eerie silence.

"Perhaps they've already escaped," Pyrrha suggested. "We haven't even seen a single Grimm yet."

"I hope so," Jaune said.

"But I'm booored!" Nora whined. I looked back at the energetic and possibly-unstable girl, lamented not bringing my emergency Adderall stash, and turned back to the road. Still silent.

That is, until an awful sound permeated the air.

My pulse immediately quickened as our group snapped to combat-ready position. As the trained fighters stood there and looked professional, I nervously flicked the fire-selector switch on my assault rifle to automatic and tried my best to act brave.

"Come on, guys! Let's go!" Ruby commanded, setting the group's advance in motion. We ran down the street and toward the source of the disturbance at a breakneck pace, stopping at a street corner within visual range just in time to see a hatchback tossed across the road like a child's toy.

"Holy fuck!" I shrieked. The crumpled vehicle sat in pieces as a pack of hundreds of Alpha Beowolves and Ursa Majors charged toward us, ready to rip anything and anyone to shreds.

"Aaron! Get up in that house!" Ruby yelled as she pointed at a two-story building a few yards away. "If you can get a vantage point, you can cover us!"

"Uh, roger!" I replied nervously, my cortisol levels spiking like crazy. I hopped the white fence just as the wave of Grimm clashed with the Hunters-in-training, my escape sparing me the terribly strenuous and difficult task of CQC. I quickly ran across the yard and through the back door to avoid attracting any attention to myself before finding the vantage point.

Ignoring the fact that I was technically breaking and entering, I climbed the stairs and entered a guest bedroom with windows that faced the street. As I slid the glass open and looked through, an awful chill ran down my spine.

There was a severed arm on the sidewalk.

"Oh… Oh God," I muttered, stunned by the carnage that was unfolding outside. What I thought would be a heroic battle against cartoon monsters was now a horrid bloodbath. There was no cool soundtrack or awesome theme for this; the only background was the horrible sound of screaming innocents.

This was really happening. People were dying by the hundreds to monsters that should have been entirely fictional.

My eyes widened in shock as I watched an elderly man get tackled by a Beowolf, his pained screams turning to unintelligible gurgling as his jugular artery was torn out. Another man was laying on the ground in a pool of his own viscera, his bloodied and frantic hands desperately trying to hold his exposed organs inside as they poured out onto the tarmac.

I was wrong. I wasn't ready for this.

I _couldn't_ have been ready for this.

An enraged roar exploded out of me as I held the trigger of my M4 down, sending a blizzard of 5.56mm rounds down into an unsuspecting Ursa. The beast groaned and collapsed, its chest covered in ragged red holes.

"Aaron! Do you hear me?" Ruby said through the communications device inside my mask.

"Loud and clear," I said. "Have you guys finished up over there?"

"Yeah, almost. We're coming to you soon, just stay put!"

There was no way in hell that I was staying put. These people were defenseless, and I was the one with the guns. I had a responsibility.

Throwing the front door open, I dashed into the street and took a position behind a destroyed car, my eyes scanning the horizon for anything of interest. The street ahead seemed to be mostly clear, with the survivors holed up safely in their homes for the moment.

"Alright, Ruby, where are you guys-"

Before I could finish my sentence, the ground directly in front of me started to violently crack and split. The cracked asphalt fell through as a titanic Creep exploded out of the earth, it's terrifying jaws snapping hungrily as its tiny eyes focused in on me.

"Oh, shit!"

The Grimm lunged forward for a ramming attack, which I countered by swinging my kukri upward into its mouth. The counter failed as the bony head crashed into me, cracking my ballistic plates and sending me flying back a few feet. I wheezed and coughed, recovering my breath as the monster crunched my metal knife like a Pringle, rendering it useless. The Creep charged forward again, allowing me enough time to jump out of the way.

I realized that my victory was short-lived as the side of the Grimm's thrashing head slammed into me, knocking me clean through a wooden fence with an audible crack from my ribs. Absolute agony rippled through my system with every strained breath, the undoubtedly numerous fractures in my torso threatening to make me lose consciousness.

The ambiance of a city under siege was replaced by a dull ringing, and my vision started to blur into a runny mess just as my allies arrived. I saw Yatsuhashi's bronze sword split into the Creep's cranium as Pyrrha and Jaune charged forward into the fray of the approaching second Grimm wave. The rest of the group entered the battle like the heroes they were made to be.

I looked down at my leg and winced as I saw a large splinter of fence stabbed through my quadricep as the ragged puncture wounds and lacerations surrounding it coated the well-manicured suburban lawn with a river of blood. I touched the wounded leg and examined my now-bloody hand, the runny stream of red bringing about a realization in my head.

I had this all wrong.

These Beacon students, these… characters, THEY were heroes. They knew what they were doing, they were brave, and above all, they could actually win the fight and save the day.

But me? Here I was thinking that I could somehow save Seattle, and look where that landed me: bleeding to death on some poor bastard's lawn. All those fanfics I read were wrong: I was in over my head, I was out of my element, and I was too weak to do anything to stop the Grimm onslaught.

As tunnel vision set in and my eyes began to dim, I considered the fact that, if I had never appeared in Remnant, the countless dead in the city would still be living, continuing on in their daily lives. I would be at home, and Seattle would be safe.

But that didn't matter. What did matter was that I was still alive, and that I could help them end this.

This was my fault…and now I had to make it right.

* * *

 **A/N: Needless to say, things took a slightly darker turn in this chapter. It's shorter by a few hundred words, but I feel like it's one of the more eventful chapters in this fic.**

 **Now, to reply to some reviews.**

 **Krazyfanfiction1: As you can see, you summed it up pretty well. Nice job.**

 **Guest: As much as I love XCOM, they or an equivalent organization won't be appearing in this particular fic. You get the U.S. Armed Forces instead.**

 **ArlenOfTheMist: I'm glad you like it! Thanks for the praise.**

 **As always, feel free to leave your thoughts, questions, or critiques in a review; I'll do my best to give you a satisfactory reply in the next chapter.**

 **Have a great week, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

"Okay, Carlyle, you've got this. It probably isn't even that bad, right?"

With a shaky hand, I reached down and grasped the piercing piece of shrapnel, and let out a scream through clenched teeth as another spurt of blood shot out from the wound.

It was definitely that bad. From my shaky Anatomy Class curriculum, I knew that humans could die after losing 40% or more of their blood, and I could already tell that I was rapidly approaching that point.

I forcibly dragged myself across the yard, being careful to not dramatically worsen my condition, and slumped against a short brick wall surrounding a small garden. The smells of pollen and fresh flowers mingled with the pungent aroma of smoke and spilled hemoglobin as a light breeze swept through the trimmed bushes. I reached out to one of the bushes and gently pulled a flower off.

A rose.

 ***USER BLOOD VOLUME: CRITICAL. SEEK IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION.***

I coughed violently as my vital sign monitor lit up, a bright shade of red replacing the normal blue light. This confirmed my most basic fear: I was about to die.

"Now, isn't that funny," I finished as the flower was crushed by my grip, sending the petals to flutter away peacefully in the breeze. A surprising calm overtook me as my senses faded out and my eyelids fell like curtains on a stage.

"AARON!? Oh God, are you alright!?" I heard Ruby shriek as she sprinted to my side. "Weiss, come over here and help me!"

"What happened? Is he- Oh, no…" Weiss trailed off as her eyes met my shredded leg.

"Stay here! I'll get some medical supplies!" Ruby commanded as she turned into a red blur and sprinted back onto the street. Weiss crouched beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder before locking eyes with me.

"You're going to be alright, Aaron," she attempted to reassure. It didn't work.

"I'm not sure about that," I replied as I took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm leaking blood like there's literally no tomorrow, my thigh resembles a piece of uncooked steak, and to put the icing on the shit cake, I have a voice in this mask that's giving me friendly reminders about my impending death. You know, in case I forget."

Weiss was silent. She seemed unsure of how to respond as Ruby and Yang returned to my resting place.

"Yang, pass me the bandages!" Ruby ordered, her voice becoming more desperate with each passing moment.

"Those aren't going to do any good with that debris stuck through him," Yang explained. "We're gonna have to take it out."

A chill ran deep into my bones. I didn't have much to lose at this point, but I was about to have a piece of fence ripped out of my thigh.

And that was one hell of a scary thought.

"Are you ready?" Weiss asked, one hand moving to cover her eyes. "On the count of three, Yang!"

"Got it," Yang confirmed as her hand wrapped tightly around the shrapnel. I winced at the pain, suppressed another scream, and prepared for the worst.

"One!"

The grip grew tighter.

"Two!"

I clenched my teeth with all the force I could.

"Three!"

At that moment, every single pain receptor lit up across my entire nervous system as Yang ripped the piece free, sending a shower of fresh blood across the lawn. The three girls flinched as my anguished screaming permeated the air.

And then, everything faded to black.

* * *

I came to in a concrete building, my body stretched out on the floor. I flinched in pain as I raised my head and looked around the room. In the corner, I saw a woman with a bloody bandage covering her eyes, her arms wrapped around a bruised and shivering child that was probably no older than six or seven.

Refugees. The twelve Hunters-in-training outside were seemingly trying to save as many civilians as possible, and from the looks of it, they weren't doing well. The show didn't do the Grimm justice. This was what those monsters did to people, and I was seeing it firsthand.

And now I wanted to slaughter as many as possible.

I grunted in pain and frustration as I tried to stand up, to no avail. I looked down at the guilty party, my bandaged and slightly less messy leg.

"Team must've fixed it," I muttered. "Speaking of…"

The door at the far side of the room swung open, filling the once-quiet room with the sounds of gunfire and intense melee combat. A dirty and tired Weiss limped into the room, her hands grasping the collar of an unresponsive civilian as she dragged him to safety.

"Weiss, over here," I said as she put the laid the man down and checked his neck for a pulse. Her expression darkened even further as she shut her eyes, said something under her breath, and slowly pulled her hand away.

"Aaron? Thank goodness…" the heiress said, evidently relieved that I wasn't going to be a statistic just yet.

"What's going on out there? Where are the others?" I asked, wincing as my damaged ribs made their presence known. "And is that guy…?"

"He's…he's dead. We already tried CPR," Weiss answered, her eyes dimming. "The group is still fighting, but we can't do enough to stop the Grimm."

"...I can still fight," I said as I struggled to sit up and reached for my pistol, but Weiss's hand blocked mine as it met the holster.

"No," she said, her scar appearing even larger through the layer of dust and grime on her face. "You can't. Stay here, Aaron. Please."

"But-"

"I'm not letting anyone else die if I can prevent it," Weiss stated, her rapier suddenly raised and pointed at my chest. "Now, listen to me, or I'll place a glyph and make you stay right there."

I couldn't argue with that. I sighed and looked forlornly at the door as Weiss walked away. A sinking guilt set in as I realized that both Seattle's citizens and my friends were facing their deaths.

And this time, I couldn't do anything. I was utterly powerless to help, my daring and heroic attempts finally taking their toll on my vulnerable human physiology.

This was far worse than dying. I saw that now.

With my limited mobility, I dragged myself over to my pile of gear and took my M4 back into my hands. I replaced the magazine with a fresh one and chambered a round, attempting to forget that my role in this battle was all but finished.

"That's a cool gun…"

I looked to my right and saw the kid from earlier, his eyes trained on the menacing black finish. I could already tell that we would get along nicely.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, I think," I replied.

"Are you one of them?" the kid asked, his tiny finger pointed toward the door. "Those...Huntsmen, or whatever they called themselves?"

"Nah," I sighed. "I'm not very good at pretending to be one either."

"Oh. Where did they come from? The monsters, I mean?"

"It's a long story. Trust me, you'll hear all about it later."

"Okay."

I expected a little more prying, but the child just stopped. He looked distant as he glanced over to his unmoving mother and blinked back a few tears.

"Hey," I said, attempting to postpone the waterworks, "you want to play a game or something?"

"S-sure. Let's play…"

Before he finished his sentence, a terrifying rumble reverberated throughout the room. I instinctively reached for my gun as the opposing wall began to crumble.

"Oh...oh shi-"

The wall exploded outward, sending a wave of dust and rubble across the warehouse floor. The child screamed and sprinted over to his mother as five pairs of glowing red eyes peered through the cloud and locked on us.

A Death Stalker had breached the building.

The blind woman and the child rushed toward me, expressions of sheer terror frozen on their faces. A trail of mucus and tears ran across the boy's face as the giant scorpion smashed through the structure, its giant claws and mandibles snapping hungrily.

I was done with this. I was done with letting these people down. I was done with letting my friends down.

And I was going to make sure that that goddamn demon knew that.

"GO TO HELLLLL!" I roared fiercely as I sent a barrage of 5.56 ammunition toward the beast. Most of the shots bounced off, but one found its mark in one of the arachnid's soulless eyes. The monster released a chilling shriek as its eye exploded into a spurt of blood, and reared back for an attack with its tail. The golden, lethal barb was lined up perfectly to impale both me and the family huddling behind me with brutal efficiency.

I wasn't going to be able to evade this one.

With one last shrill screech, the tail rocketed toward us. My hands stretched out reflexively, a futile action designed to keep me alive. However, this time, it clearly wasn't going to work as intended.

'I'm sorry, everyone….'

Suddenly, everything seemed to slow down. I opened my eyes and was shocked to see a rippling barrier of energy between me and the stinger. A light blue glow enveloped my body, and a prickling yet soothing sensation flowed across my wounded leg, knitting the flesh back together like a magical restoration spell.

Aura.

"It's about fucking time!" I shouted as I climbed back up to my feet. Power flowed through my veins like a magical elixir, imbuing me with a confidence I didn't know I had.

Needless to say, it felt fucking amazing.

"Get...back!" I roared, pushing back on the tail with everything I had. The scorpion increased its effort to compensate, leaving us in a deadlock. Despite my well-timed Aura activation, I still had the problem of a giant fucking arachnid trying to devour me like a human-sized chicken nugget.

And, worse, my weapons would probably do shit against the thing. Even I knew that the chances of taking the thing's eyes out were slim, and even that wouldn't stop the monster.

But I guess that was what friends were for.

"Weiss, now!" Ruby commanded as a white glyph formed on the Death Stalker's head. Like a supersonic cruise missile, the crimsonette launched off the glyph, scythe deployed, and cleanly sliced the entire tail off. The creature reared back in agony as Yang and Blake charged forward, each directing an unstoppable barrage of attacks into the bony faceplate.

The plate cracked, revealing a portion the red, meaty interior of the beast as it groaned and crashed into the ground. The writhing beast tried to get back up, but the damage was too catastrophic.

All that was left to do was finish it off.

"Welcome to Earth," I said as I pointed the barrel at the exposed tissue and pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, things are definitely starting to heat up.**

 **And, now for some reviews.**

 **brave kid: Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

 **Harbinger: You're right about the realism aspect; I'm trying to make this version more believable. An invincible protagonist is something you see a lot in OC-centric fics like this one, and I'm really wanting to avert that. Before the events of this fic, Aaron was just a mostly average kid, and as you can see, that's not doing him any favors now that hellish monsters are running amok.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Damn…"

SSgt. Adams looked out of his commander viewport at the broken and desolate metropolis in front of the tank. Thin wisps of pungent black smoke trailed skyward from the tall office complexes and residential buildings, and a glittering sea of broken glass covered the downtown streets.

"Hammer 1 to Hammer 3, over."

The platoon leader's commanding voice crackled through the radio as the Stryker ahead of the tank slowed to a stop in the middle of the highway. Things were being fairly quiet so far, but Adams didn't feel good about being a sitting duck.

"Hammer 3 Actual. Go ahead, Hammer 1."

"We've got a wave incoming hostiles closing fast, straight ahead. I want your cannon ready to fire when I give the word. Over."

"WILCO. We've got your backs. Out."

The two APCs in front fanned out across the highway, an impenetrable phalanx of armor plating and machine guns. The sergeant looked down from his nest at the crew.

"Mac, stop here. Donny, don't fire until I say so. Get ready, boys; this'll be one hell of a ride."

"Roger that, Commander. Norm, load me a HE," Donny replied, his eyes focused down the gunsight.

"Sir, what's actually going on out there?" Pvt. Marlowe asked. Command had been awfully quiet about what exactly these "monsters" were or how they got here, which wasn't a great thing no matter how you sliced it.

"CONTACT!" Hammer 2 yelled through the radio, snapping the entire crew back into full alertness. "Twenty plus foot mobiles!"

"I'm going up top," Adams said, his hand pushing up on the metal hatch. "Stay sharp, men."

The surrounding area erupted into chaos as a wave of the black hellions responsible for the attack crashed against the convoy, ravenous and unintimidated by the U.S. soldiers. Adams grasped the M2 machine gun in front of him and unleashed a long burst of .50 fire into a large bear-like monster, transforming it into a massive red-and-black swiss cheese.

A pair of AH-64s buzzed overhead, white-hot fire streaking from their rocket pods as a lethal barrage of ordnance tore through the horde of menacing beasts. The three armored vehicles stood firm against the tide, the Strykers emptying out two squads of heavily-armed infantry onto the makeshift beachhead as their machine guns tore turned the twenty-plus group into a mound of dead.

"Having fun yet, Sarge?" Mac asked, a toothy grin on his face. "Go easy on the gun, you're spilling hot brass fucking everywhere."

Before the graying commander could spit out a witty comeback, one of the convoy radiomen again spoke up. "Hammer 1 to all units, area secure. Hold for-"

"All ground units, be advised. We're seeing another wave on FLIR, and it's big."

Adams was unfazed by Command's sudden update. "Bring 'em on."

"Stand by," Hammer 1 said. "I'll find out what they mean by 'big.'"

"Well, never thought I'd ever be sitting in a metal box fighting off motherfucking demons," Mac stated. "They should really have something in the recruitment flyers about this shit."

"Got that right," the gunner agreed. "Better be gettin' some hazard pay after this."

"Hey, after we get home, we're going out," Adams said. "Drinks on me-"

The conversation was cut short by the piercing whine of steel and the high-pitched chiming of breaking glass. The shiny stuff rained down onto the road, prompting the infantry to cover their heads. Adams looked up and froze.

A skyscraper near them was starting to fall apart.

"Holy SHIT!" he cursed as a pane of glass came crashing down onto the tank, shattering spectacularly on impact. "Everyone back inside! We gotta move!"

The two infantry squads took note of what was happening and loaded back up, preparing to get the hell away before the debris rain got any worse. A massive crash echoed through the air, seemingly expediting the building's collapse by a sizable margin as the structure began to sway.

"Mac, back us up! Hurry!" Adams commanded, his fist slamming into the tank with every syllable.

"Roger! Let's get the fuck outta here!" the driver replied.

One final crash sealed the building's fate as the entire structure came toppling down like a house of dominoes. Pieces of furniture and bent steel hurtled down as a huge, looming shadow was cast over the road. The complex crashed into the highway, setting off a massive tremor that shook everything in sight as a huge wall of thick gray dust washed across the street, cutting visibility drastically.

"I can't see shit!" Adams complained, grabbing the radio handset. "Hammer 1, do you copy?"

No response but static.

"Dammit. Now what?" Donny asked, the fear clearly visible in his eyes.

"Hold and wait. I'll try to get Two on the line-"

A deep roar silenced the sergeant, snapping his head toward the source. Through the thick cloud of dust and smoke, he squinted hard and could make something out.

A pair of huge, glowing red eyes.

"Oh shit."

At that moment, a lone, giant werewolf-like creature leapt onto the tank, its huge white fangs flared out and ready to maul them. A jagged claw swiped for the commander, barely missing its mark as the man tumbled back down into the tank. The huge wolf head poked through in pursuit, jaws snapping madly as Marlowe reached for his pistol.

"Sarge! Duck!"

Adams ducked, and a split-second later, his ears were ringing with the sound of a single pistol shot in a confined space. A bead of sweat rolled down his face as the wolf dissolved into an ominous black fog, leaving behind nothing but a crew of shell-shocked men.

"...Thanks, Private."

"Uh, Sarge! We got a problem!" Donny shrieked. Adams peered through his window and froze in instinctual terror as a colossal elephant stared the tank down.

"GIANT FUCKING ELEPHANTS!? HELL NO, MAN!" Mac screamed as he maxed the throttle out. Adams stayed focused on the monster, which seemed to be not following them intentionally. The gap began to fill with a mob of the black creatures, all of which began to give chase.

"Don't slow down, Mac!"

"Where the fuck are we gonna go, Sarge?" Mac inquired.

Adams sealed the top hatch and sat in thought for a few moments before giving a simple, yet incredibly wise answer.

"Anywhere but here."

* * *

As Blake and Yang exchanged a mutual glance of victory, I looked down at my hands. The cyan glow started to gradually diminish, leaving me to think on what just happened.

"Well, that's new," I remarked.

"That was awesome, Aaron!" Ruby congratulated.

"Nah, blocking that hit was dumb luck. I'd resemble a shish kebab right now if it wasn't for you guys," I replied. Weiss walked over to us, giving me hope for an all-too-rare compliment.

"I see that your Aura finally unlocked," Weiss said, the corners of her mouth growing into a small yet noticeable grin. "I also see that I was right."

"Have a gold star, O Wise One," I replied sarcastically. "I guess I owe you one for trying to activate it the first time. And for helping to save my ass for the second-."

"Third. It's the third time," she corrected, placing a hand on her hip. "Let's not have this happen a fourth time, agreed?"

"No guarantees."

"And I'm guessing that you now want to charge headlong into the fray again?"

I looked down at the mosaic of bloody bandages on my leg, taking a moment to consider the risks involved here. Sure, I had what was essentially a personal overshield and a healing factor, but those were no guarantee of survival against the Grimm. I had a snowball's chance in Hell out there.

Then again, I wasn't known for making good life choices.

"Uh...right again. That was the plan….."

Weiss's grin turned back to its normal, stern form as she wound Myrtenaster's chamber. "I'd voice my objections, but I'm sure that you would ignore them. Stay close to me."

As the cognitive gears began to turn in a search for a sufficiently witty comeback that would showcase my cleverness, the rest of RWBY came over and regrouped.

"So….what are we going to do with those people over there?" Yang asked in a low whisper, her gaze directed at the child and woman huddled against the wall.

"We should find somewhere for them to hold out," Blake stated. "If they come with us, they'll get hurt or killed for sure. We can't risk that."

"You're right," Ruby said, a bit of sadness in her voice. "We can't take them along."

"So where do we put them?" I interjected. "Any basements or the like near here?"

"The building next door has a basement that should work," Weiss answered. "We'll have to explain to them what is happening, but I'm sure they'll be okay."

"I'll do the honors," I volunteered, handing my weapon to Yang as I turned toward the family. I walked to the child, crouched down to his level, and pulled out my best reassuring voice despite the subject matter.

"Listen, it's not safe here. More of those things are coming, but we have a place for you to hold out until help arrives."

The mother spoke up. "But what about you and your people? Aren't you going to-"

"We're going downtown soon, and we don't want you to get hurt. We'll be fine. Just follow me."

I felt the child grip my pants leg as I walked toward the building's exit, where Yang, Weiss, Ruby, and Blake were all waiting.

"Alright, String Cheese," Yang said, handing back my rifle. "We'll cover you. Next door, got it?"

"Yeah," I said. "Let's go."

With that, Yang kicked the door open. The team went through the open doorframe, their weapons ablaze as the Grimm fell all around. What was once a city block was now all but demolished, with only a few buildings left standing. A mob of monsters bombarded the JNPR/CFVY battle line. We needed to get a move on, and fast.

"First door on the left, Aaron! Remember that!" Ruby yelled, her scythe cleaving a Beowolf in half. I threw the neighboring building's door open, found the basement access, and turned to the two survivors.

"Alright, this is it. Barricade the door with whatever you can find. I'll lock this place down so they don't get close. Don't open the door until you're sure it's safe," I commanded, surprised at my sudden ability to improvise instructions for this scenario.

"Thank you again," the woman said, her gratitude evident despite the bloody rag covering half of her face. "Good luck out there."

"Thanks," I said as I closed the door and heard it lock from the inside. "I'm gonna need it."

I clambered up the stairs and out onto the battlefield just in time to see Weiss fire an ice spike clean through an Ursa, killing it instantly. I lowered my weapon and checked my ammunition as the heiress sheathed her sword.

"You might want this," Weiss said, her hand reaching behind her. Before I could ask about the mystery object, she pulled my mask out and offered it to me. "We took it off when we brought you back, and I thought that you'd appreciate it if I returned it to you."

I slid the mask onto my face once again, inspected the HUD, and polarized the visor. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Weiss."

I realized something. If they stripped my gear when they rescued me, that meant….

Oh, no.

"Weiss? Where is my rucksack?" I asked, beginning to panic. The entire mission relied on the BIS, and I had no idea where the thing was.

"Relax, hotshot," a feminine voice replied. I turned to the source and saw Coco standing atop a collapsed piece of concrete, the sack hanging safely in her hand. "We've got it right here."

I let out a sigh of relief as CFVY's leader leapt down and handed the bag back. I reached in and was incredibly happy to see that the BIS was undamaged. I had no idea how that was the case, but who cared anyway?

"That's a fucking relief," I said. "Thanks for taking care of it."

"No problem," Coco said. "Now, what IS a problem is getting this thing to where it needs to go."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I figured that approaching a portal that spewed Grimm was going to be a challenge, but it sounded especially daunting now. Come on, this girl carried a MINIGUN, and she still thought that it would be incredibly hard.

She turned to the right and pointed toward the top of a nearby hill. "Go up there and take a look."

I complied, attaching my rifle to its sling as I climbed up the hill at a fast pace. The orange-tinged sky was quite picturesque, like a background for a vacation brochure.

I couldn't say the same for downtown.

The glimmering cluster of skyscrapers looked worn and covered with numerous holes, each building seemingly one good hit away from collapse. Giant black masses moved through the thick dust cloud enveloping the lower levels, no doubt a group of Goliaths. One of the skyscrapers had already fallen, the tower's former glory reduced to a twisted hunk of metal and concrete laid across a freeway. Frequent explosions dotted the landscape as military helicopters whizzed around, trying desperately to stop the incursion of Grimm into the surrounding area.

Through all of the smoke, dust, and fire, I spotted one very important object: a giant, dark purple orb in the midst of the highrises. The sinister magenta glow perforated the haze, sending purple rays across the surrounding city like an ominous light show.

A crimson rage started to rise up within me as I pulled the BIS cylinder from my bag. The navigation system's arrow pointed right at the orb, confirming the target.

It was time to put my new abilities to use.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter wasn't especially action-filled for our protagonists, but that was sort of intended. Anyway, I hope you guys are satisfied with the third-person sections in the last few chapters that follow the response to the Grimm attack. A chief complaint about the original fic was its lack of explanation of what was actually happening outside Aaron's POV on Earth, and these are an attempt to rectify that issue.**

 **Anyway, leave a review with your comments or criticism if you want. They're always helpful for the future.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	17. Chapter 17

The President nervously twiddled his thumbs, the weight of commanding sitting heavier than ever on his shoulders. The Situation Room was nearly silent except for the frequent sound of turning pages. Each of the three officials had received a dossier with every fact and figure about the Seattle crisis available.

Which, at this moment, wasn't that much information.

A dull buzz overtook the silence as the Secretary of Defense reached into his coat pocket and drew his cell phone. The composed professional's eyes widened as he looked at the screen.

"Mister President, we have new images of the hostiles."

POTUS stopped dead in his dossier reading and looked up. "Show me."

The wall-mounted monitors changed from a display of devastating damage projections to a slideshow of assorted images, all of which seemed to have one thing in common: horrifying black abominations that were out to kill everything in sight.

"The images you see here were taken from helmet camera feeds from our personnel on the ground," SecDef explained. "And as you can see, these things aren't very friendly."

"Jesus," the Secretary of Homeland Security said to himself, his eyes fixated on a particularly disturbing still image of a massive, two headed snake. The man shuddered as he considered how close the soldier who provided this picture had to have been to the reptilian horror, and quickly tried to push the thought to the back of his mind as he contemplated the man's uncertain fate.

"This is minutes-old intel, the best and most recent we've got," the Defense Secretary said. "Our analysts are working on gleaning any and all info, but for now we've got no idea-"

The conversation stopped as a quick knock emanated from the door.

"Come in," POTUS said. "Maybe they have new details for us."

The door swung gently open, revealing a nervous-looking young man clutching another folder of undoubtedly highly classified information. "Mister President, this is for you."

The President took the folder and checked the contents. More convoluted and probably useless paperwork. He mentally groaned in frustration as he closed the folder and slid it onto the wooden conference table, making a mental note to allocate less funding for printer ink next time the budget came along.

"Thank you. Is there anything else that you have for me?"

"Uh, no sir. I think-"

The twenty-something froze as he saw the monitors, like he recognized something familiar.

"Wait, those are Grimm," he said to himself. "Mister President, those are Grimm!"

The commander-in-chief pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Yes, we're aware. I've been mulling over casualty projections for at least three hours now."

"Oh. Er-no, the monsters. They're actually called 'Creatures of Grimm'. They're actually from-"

Sec Homeland sat in silence for a moment, taking in this nonsense. He had no idea what a "Grimm" was, but it was certainly a better name for these things than "unknown contact" or "unidentified hostiles."

"Son, what are you talking about?" SecDef started. "This is an imminent threat to national security here-"

"Let him finish. We might learn something." the President interrupted, his head turning to the young courier. "

The young man started to sweat at a faster rate. Was he actually going to bring up a random web series to the a few of the most important people in the country? Was he even right about what the monsters were? If he wasn't, he'd probably lose his job and be in for an absolutely thrilling psychological evaluation.

He squinted hard at the images, confirmed his suspicions, and took a deep breath.

"Mister President, have you ever heard of a cartoon called RWBY?"

* * *

"Enjoy the view?" Coco asked sarcastically as she spun up her minigun. Some would take offense to this remark after seeing the effects of the attack, but any attempts at humor or snark were welcome in what was essentially a war zone.

"Yeah, it was great until I saw the city," I replied. "Things are getting more fucked up by the second, and we need to get down there before things get even worse. "

"We're going to need a plan. That place is probably teeming with Grimm at this point, and we aren't going to stand a chance unless we go about this intelligently," Weiss stated.

"Right. We should regroup with the rest of-"

I stopped as I saw a slender black object closing in on us. Time seemed to slow as reflexes and adrenaline kicked in, allowing me to determine the definite shape of the projectile:

A giant, razor-edged feather.

"Weiss! Watch out!" I yelled as I threw myself toward the confused girl, my weight bringing us both to the ground. The quill whizzed by like a speeding bullet and lodged into the cement as a massive raven-shaped shadow crossed the ground.

"Nevermore!" Coco shouted, her gun spewing a stream of glowing Dust-infused rounds toward the giant corvid. The bird banked hard to the left and started to climb rapidly, only taking a few minor hits in the process.

"Get off of me!" Weiss commanded as she pounded my back with her fist. I was hoping for a little more appreciation for me saving her life for once, but we had bigger fish to fry.

Or, in this case, giant fucking birds.

I rolled off, releasing the heiress from the safety hug and preparing to fight. My plate carrier was starting to feel a bit too light for comfort, prompting me to decide against wasting my ammo on the Giant Nevermore unless I had to. Sure, letting everyone else deal with the bird was a bit heartless, but I wouldn't do much damage anyway, and pragmatism was going to be my best chance of coming out of this in one piece.

The rest of the Hunters-in-training rushed over to engage the airborne Grimm, their fatigue evident. Exhaustion wouldn't bode well down the road, but a quick glance behind them showed a long trail of dissipating Grimm corpses from the now-defeated horde.

"Weiss! Aaron! Are you two alright?" Ruby asked frantically.

"We're okay!" Weiss replied as she brought herself back up to her feet. "How are the others?"

"They're all good! A little tired, though!"

Weiss nodded and looked down at me before reaching down to offer me a hand. I reached up and took it, taking note of how ridiculously soft it was. It was like a fleece blanket straight out of the dryer, but in hand form.

 _'Dammit, Carlyle! Keep it together!'_ I interrupted, deciding to continue this description at a later date, preferably one with fewer things trying to kill me.

As I was pulled up, I saw Jaune and Pyrrha running in the direction of the Nevermore. I predicted that an insane team attack was coming, and was proven to be correct when the blond knight knelt down with his shield skyward. Pyrrha jumped onto the shield, using it as a springboard in a bid to reach the corvid. A metallic slice and a loud screech confirmed her success as she firmly lodged Miló into the mass of feathers, using it as a solid foothold for further attacks.

As I watched in awe, taking in the sheer skill and risk involved, I heard a loud, consistent roar closing in on us. It wasn't a Grimm, or even a living creature at all.

It was a fighter jet on an attack run.

"Pyrrha! Get out of there!" I yelled desperately, hoping that we wouldn't run out of time. The Spartan girl looked at me in confusion, then looked to Jaune, who looked equally unsure of why I was suddenly trying to give orders.

"What's happening?" Jaune demanded. The roar grew louder.

"Just trust me!" I shouted back. After a moment of hesitation that felt like an eternity, Jaune looked back at Pyrrha and nodded to her. She understood instantly, yanking the sword out and taking a leap of faith off of the bird with not a moment to spare. Jaune gasped with concern as Pyrrha landed roughly and stumbled forward, straight into his arms.

'Aww man. Arkos confirmed! Now to deal with the-'

 ** _BRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT_**

My possibly off-topic thinking was figuratively shot down as a heavily-armed F-16 screeched by, its Vulcan cannon buzzing at deafening volume like a swarm of hornets from Hell. The Nevermore let out one final screech as it was literally shot down, its soulless eyes fixed on the plane as it flew away into the distance.

For once, I was happy about where 18% of our tax dollars went.

"That. Was. Amazing!" Ruby shrieked. JNPR breathed a collective sigh of relief as Pyrrha looked into Jaune's eyes, topping off the cheesy romance novel moment perfectly. I really needed to start a betting pool or something.

"Wow," Coco said, both impressed by the USAF plane and disappointed that she didn't get to add another Nevermore to her kill count. I started to chuckle a bit at this before I was hit with a blinding flash of light.

"Damn, what the shi-"

"Sorry..."

I instantly recognized the Australian accent, which was great because I couldn't see anything.

Velvet Scarlatina.

"...It's fine," I said, my eyes adjusting to the normal light levels once again. Once my vision cleared, I saw the rabbit-eared girl holding some kind of antique camera, one that matched the mystery box that was so often talked about by fans in appearance.

I was disappointed. Apparently the mystery box didn't do anything cool besides take photos, and that made me very sad on both a fan level and personal level.

"Are you doing okay?" Velvet asked. I had been asked this question a record number of times today, but in the interest of conversation I went along with it.

"I'm alright. I'm not dead yet, at least," I replied. "Yet."

"This must be really hard for you," she continued sympathetically.

"A little," I said. "I live on the other side of the continent, but it's been a bit rough regardless as you can see."

"...Well, you're quite photogenic," she said as she showed me a rather blurry photograph, changing the subject. I laughed, taking the compliment while simultaneously considering the possibility that I looked better with my face hidden. That was a problem for another day, though.

Now, we had secured the area and were almost ready to push into downtown. All we needed now was a bit of rest and a decent action plan.

"I'm gonna go see Ruby," I said. "Thanks for the talk."

I walked over to RWBY's leader, my mind working on a few ideas for attack that probably wouldn't get us killed. Coming up with this stuff was significantly harder in real life, where there were no respawns or save points.

We had one shot, and we had to get it right.

* * *

The three government executives sat at the table after the intern's lecture on this "RWBY" show with attitudes ranging from mild amusement to bitter disapproval. It had been a long fifteen minutes of discussion about "Aura" and "Huntsmen," and, most relevant of all, the "Grimm."

The Secretary of Defense was not amused.

"Okay, son. Let me get this straight: you mean to tell me that the object in Seattle is actually a portal to a bass-ackwards planet filled with evil monsters, soul magic, and schools filled with highly-lethal child soldiers?" he said skeptically, and rightfully so. "Jesus, someone give me a pen for writing my letter of resignation."

The courier moved to defend his hypothesis, taking into account how outlandish it actually was. "Sir, I swear that's what I know. It might just be coincidence, but I'm fairly sure-"

"I can't buy this," the Secretary replied. "There just isn't enough evidence to reasonably prove this crazy-ass theory, and even if there was I'd still have a hard time believing it."

The intercom in the Situation Room came on, startling the nervous courier even more.

"NORTHCOM has some new information for you, Mister President. Should I patch them through?" the voice on the intercom asked.

"Of course," the President confirmed.

The conference call set up immediately connected to the commander of the National Security Emergency Preparedness Directorate, who evidently possessed information important enough to require directly contacting POTUS himself.

The officials aboard Air Force One had high hopes.

"Sir, I've received multiple reports of what appears to be a group of heavily armed individuals outside the downtown defensive perimeter," NORTHCOM's commander said, his disbelief evident.

"Are they civilians? Paramilitary?" the President asked, checking off the most likely categories that this particular group might fit into.

He had no idea.

"Sir, I think that showing you is better than telling," the commander said. "Standby."

The monitors changed once again, this time to a high-resolution image taken via an unnoticed Predator drone. The picture showed a huge mob of hostiles attacking the group members in question, but that was hardly the most interesting aspect.

It was their appearances.

"Sir, may I?" the courier said, gesturing to a terminal connected to the displays. With a few keystrokes, he brought up images of the RWBY main characters, warranting choked laughter from the Secretary of Homeland Security. The men seated at the table had seen many ludicrous things in their careers, but this topped them all.

The young intern zoomed in on one of the individuals in the drone feed, a certain one wearing a red cloak. With a smirk on his face, he moved the focus of the character art to the main character of the web series, Ruby Rose.

The Secretary of Defense nearly choked on his coffee. The resemblance was uncanny.

"If that doesn't win you over, I can point to and name almost all of the people in this image," the courier stated, his confidence growing noticeably.

The President was finally starting to take this theory seriously. If this was actually true, he and his staff had to be ready, and it was his job to get that way. He stopped, cleared his throat, and uttered words that he always assumed would only be used by Presidents in Hollywood films.

"Gentlemen, we may be in the midst of a First Contact Scenario."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, here you go. In this chapter, we get the big realization for the federal government, an F-16, and a Nevermore fight. I hope you liked it.**

 **Also, you get some shipteases. Merry Christmas.**

 **As always, leave a review if you want. I'm always looking to improve, and I enjoy seeing what you guys think of the stuff I write.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	18. Chapter 18

"Man… out of the entire White Fang, they had to pick ME to shuffle through papers as a city falls to pieces."

The Faunus lieutenant grimaced under his Grimm mask as he thumbed through the tall filing cabinet. Just a few days ago, he was going about his normal business: raiding trains, stealing highly expensive and poorly secured military hardware, ordinary things like that.

Oh, and leaving nobody alive to tell the tale. He was pretty good at that, too.

He'd killed at least fifteen people within the last hour, all of them human. Actually, he hadn't seen a single Faunus since he came through the "gate" or whatever that Cinder bitch called it.

"Man, this planet is the most ass-backwards place I've ever been to," the wolf-Faunus muttered under his breath. "Am I right, guys?"

He turned around and looked down the corridor at his "work." The hall was littered with four of his victims, their crimson liquid slowly trickling across the waxed floors like paint upon a canvas. A blue-shirted policeman was sprawled across the elevator threshold, his body frequently twitching as the automatic doors repeatedly rammed into him.

The poor bastard tried to open fire with his shotgun, but he'd apparently forgotten to pack the Dust rounds today, and it didn't end well for him or the other three security guards in the room.

"Ah. Sorry about this, guys."

He pulled his high-powered pistol from his waist and fired another round into the officer. The force of the impact punched a ragged hole in the cop's skull and shunted the corpse through the doorway.

 **DING!**

The elevator doors shut, and the digital counter above it began to decrease as the lift descended to the ground floor.

"Pathetic. Well, the next poor sap who comes in to file their taxes is gonna be in for quite a surprise," he mused to himself as he looked out the high-rise window at the collapsed skyscraper down the street.

"Well, if there's even a poor sap left, that is."

After holstering his handgun, the Faunus grabbed the stack of "important" infrastructure-related documents that he was tasked with retrieving and stuffed them into his bag.

"Now that the boring part is over…"

"FREEZE!"

The Faunus smirked under his mask and slowly turned toward the source of the shout: a soldier, judging from his kit. With a low growl, he flicked his wrists and released two shining, razor-sharp blades from his gauntlets.

Now, contrary to what most people thought of him, he wasn't a psychopath; he didn't draw out his victims' suffering, or kill children or pregnant women, any of which he considered going way too far for him, however much they deserved it.

Of course, killing in itself was fine, as the soldier in front of him was about to find out.

"...We get to enjoy the fun bits of this little mission."

* * *

"Ruby?"

The crimsonette quickly shifted her gaze from Crescent Rose to me as I walked over to her.

"Yeah, Aaron?" she replied. I took my backpack off, reached in, and pulled out the metallic cylinder that was quite possibly more valuable in this scenario than my own life.

Well, there was no "quite possibly" about it: this thing WAS more valuable than me.

"So, see this thing?" I asked, gesturing at the device. "Rosenthal told me to get it to the portal. He said that it'd collapse it somehow."

"Okay…" she replied, already thinking. "Did he tell you how it works?"

I scratched the back of my head. "No. He showed me how to arm it, but that's the extent of my technical knowledge. He's not the best at explaining things, trust me."

"Well, I guess we don't have much of a choice," she said. "Most of the Grimm are downtown anyway, and the survivors are going to need help."

"Right," I agreed.

"Jaune! Coco! We need to talk about our strategy!" Ruby called out. The two other leaders jogged over and knelt down beside us.

"So, we need to move into a crumbling city filled with Grimm," she began. "And, even though me and my team have some experience with that, we still need to get a plan together. Any ideas?"

"We should probably try to get in touch with the military here," Jaune said. "You know, so they don't do a bombing run on us again."

"Our Scrolls are useless without the CCT, so that's not happening any time soon," Coco stated.

"Plus, I think they encrypt their radio traffic. We could try to jack some of their equipment," I said. "We'd have to find one of their Humvees or something."

The three Remnans looked at me with puzzled expressions.

"What's a 'Humvee?'" Ruby asked.

I could already tell that this discussion was going to be difficult and filled to the brim with drawn-out explanations of U.S. military hardware. And, despite the fact that Ruby would probably have a field day with a lot of it, I wasn't looking forward to the possibility of explaining what a Hellfire missile was while actual Hellfire missiles were flying all over the goddamn place.

"It's basically an armored utility vehicle," I explained. "You'll know when you see one."

"Back on topic…" Jaune interjected. "We're going to need to get moving soon. The sun is already starting to go down, and fighting at night wouldn't work out so great for us."

He was right. It looked like we would have a couple of hours of light left, judging from the setting sun and orange sky. The power grid was probably fucked beyond repair, too, so those of us without Faunus night vision would be incredibly vulnerable.

That wasn't an option.

"It looks like we're about three miles away from the city, and the fighting is only going to get more frequent the further we push," Coco said.

"We're ready for it," Ruby replied, heroic resolve in her silver eyes. "Let's go."

With that, the leaders stood up and went to their teams, presumably to fill them in on what was going to happen. Considering that I'd been with RWBY for most of this entire ordeal, I decided to continue to stick with them.

After all, they had gotten me this far.

* * *

"O'Malley! Come in!"

The frantic voice crackled through the radio as the White Fang specialist cleaned his wrist-mounted blades of any blood residue. The soldier lay dead before him, a single precise puncture wound to the neck responsible for his demise.

The man proved to be quite skilled; not enough to survive, of course, but it still impressed the Faunus, especially after the ...disappointing performance of the security guards.

It was quick and as painless as a stabbing could get. And, like the old saying went, a good death was its own reward.

His thoughts were interrupted by a series of two short beeps from his communicator. He reached into his bag and grabbed the device, examining the surprisingly bulky item intensely. The engineering team had managed to piece this thing together at the last minute, and it served as a link through the Bridge between him and his superiors on Remnant.

"A message? Hooray, more mindless and unstimulating chores. Lucky me."

 _[Lady Cinder tells us that she has a job for you.]_

"Lady Cinder? Wow," he mumbled to himself. The entire command staff was starting to creep him out a bit, actually. It seemed like Adam was the only one left with his wits intact.

But a job? He hated her with a burning passion, but Cinder had his attention.

 _[You have some uninvited guests. Dispose of them.]_

The lieutenant smirked. Things just got a lot more interesting, and he was ready for a challenge. He looked again at the message before typing a reply.

 _[Consider it done. Going now.]_

* * *

 **A/N: So, new chapter, and a new enemy for our heroes to fight.**

 **I hope you've enjoyed the fic so far. As always, leave a review if you want to.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	19. Chapter 19

"It's just like Mountain Glenn…"

I looked at Weiss and increased my pace to close the distance. We'd been walking among the increasingly desolate ruins for a while, at least an hour or so by my count. The crumbling, devastated buildings were anything but pleasing to look at, especially when you'd been staring death in the face for hours on end.

The heiress was right. Seattle had turned into a second Mountain Glenn.

"This time'll be different," Ruby said. I could tell that she was trying her best to hold on to her optimism, but the facade was becoming less sturdy with every collapsed home or dead civilian we came across. Really, I was impressed by the fact that she'd managed to keep it together at all this entire time.

 _'I guess that's what makes her a good leader. They- no, WE need that.'_

"Are you holding up alright, Weiss?" I asked.

"...Yes, I'm fine," she replied, giving me a forced half-smile. Under normal circumstances, I'd be happy about the warmer reception, but this wasn't one of those times. I wanted badly to add a witty remark, to lighten her mood somehow, but that was quite the task in a warzone.

And make no mistake: this was war.

"I think we're getting close to the inner city," Blake said, interrupting my thoughts.

"I'll tell Jaune and Coco," the leader replied. The other two teams were farther behind us, maintaining a healthy amount of space. It was smart, really; once we reached downtown, we'd be sitting ducks for an ambush if we were all crowded together. "Blake, can you-?"

Ruby's voice was cut off by a sinister howling noise, a sound that I'd heard far too many times before.

Beowolves.

Three bone-plated werewolves crashed through a nearby shop window before skidding to a stop a few yards in front of us. These things were apparently a stronger version, being around ten feet tall and with more extensive bone plating across their body.

Oh, and they were scary as fuck up close.

 _'Alright, Aaron. Keep your distance,'_ I thought, giving the ugly patch of scar tissue on my forearm a quick glimpse. It was a great motivator, really; as Grandma always said, there was a positive side to everything.

I squeezed the trigger of my assault rifle, firing a three-round burst straight at the front creature's chest. It reacted in a split-second, and its arm flew up to block the shots. The bullets pounded the bone plating, splinters flying off in all directions as large craters formed on the white surface.

A trail of rose petals appeared as Ruby shot forward, bisecting the leftmost monster with lethal efficiency. The top half fell off of the bottom, dissolving immediately and completely into black smog.

'I'm probably never going to get used to that.'

The monster that I was in the process of attacking released a terrible roar and charged, its jagged maw foaming with rage, or whatever equivalent to that emotion the Grimm felt. I pulled the trigger again, this time emptying the remainder of my magazine into the monster. A few well-placed shots shattered the cranial plate, spraying a fine black mist everywhere. It stumbled for a few steps before finally collapsing just a few feet away.

"One down, guys!" I said, feeling like I was actually succeeding at something for once. "We-"

Suddenly, as if it was a slow-motion scene in a movie, I turned my head and made eye contact with the third and final Alpha as it went in for the kill. I could almost feel the hot breath coming from its agape jaw, and I yanked my rifle into ready position.

 ** _Click!_**

I was out of ammunition. And I sure as hell didn't have time to reload.

The wolf collided with my rifle, the firearm serving as a makeshift shield against its attacks. I pushed back against it with all of my might, but it didn't take long for me to figure out that I wasn't going to last long like this.

Then, it stopped.

The werewolf let out a pathetic whimper, its strength obviously fading. My eyes panned down, and met the glimmering edge of Gambol Shroud that protruded from the Alpha's abdomen. The blade backed out through the Grimm, leaving only a sizable hole as evidence.

"Thanks, Blake," I said as the wolf expired and transformed into ebony mist. The Faunus sheathed her sword and stuck it onto her back, not even reacting to what had just transpired.

"You should be more aware of your surroundings, Aaron," she said, her visage shifting into a critical squint. "I might not be able to jump in like that next time."

"Point taken."

Yang chimed in from across the street. "Hey, Aaron! Isn't this what we're looking for?"

The blonde pointed down the road to a large but otherwise unremarkable cluster of debris. I briefly considered the realization that I was calling pieces of collapsed buildings and the dead bodies contained within them "unremarkable," but got back on track as I examined it further.

There was a whip antenna sticking out from behind the pile, which obviously indicated that there was a communications setup of some description connected to it. Hopefully, if the antenna was intact, the rest of the transmitting rig would be too.

"Yeah, looks like it," I said, still winded from the combat. "Let's get a closer look."

The five of us moved over to the antenna, this time with a more than reasonable amount of caution. I for one didn't want to repeat the near-death experience again, and it seemed like I wasn't exactly alone in that regard. The pile, when examined up close, hid the buried equipment pretty well, but a few holes revealed the tan plating of a U.S. military vehicle.

Just what we were looking for. Yang's hunch was right.

"Can we move this stuff?" I asked. Almost immediately, the blonde grabbed the largest piece of structural concrete off of the mound and tossed it aside like a cardboard refrigerator box, uncovering the driver-side door and a sizeable portion of the exterior armor. The vehicle was in bad shape; it wasn't going anywhere, but the cabin itself looked okay, besides the shattered windows. There weren't any bodies inside (Thank GOD), and I hoped that the crew made it out of this mess in one piece.

I pulled on the door hard, causing the thick hinges to creak and groan as the irreparably-bent hatch opened. I bent over and climbed into the car, continuing my search. I found the radio equipment, and breathed a sigh of relief as I looked it over. Aside from a few scratches and dents, it all was still intact.

I looked out at the gang and rubbed my head. "Here goes nothing, ladies."

I reached for the mic, flipped the power switch on the radio, and brought it up to my mouth.

* * *

"Can I get some fucking medevac in the air?"

The commander barked into his headset, an element of overwhelmed panic showing through the authoritarian facade. They trained the officers for a lot of things, but "monsters from hell rampaging through the streets and killing thousands of your men" wasn't one of them.

He looked around the room, an entirely utilitarian chamber filled to the brim with maps, planning materials, and enough radio equipment to put a major broadcast station to shame. Several men ran about the place, each one experiencing the same set of feelings as him.

"Sir? Kilo Two-Five just came back on the grid."

The commander turned around and looked at the speaking communications officer. A unit coming back "onto the grid" was fairly unremarkable; they could have been experiencing radio trouble. But Kilo Two-Five was smack-dab in the middle of what he'd marked as the "Dead Zone."

It was called that for a reason. Every single unit that entered the zone was either missing, or confirmed dead.

"I see. Can we get eyes on?"

The comms officer looked at his monitors for a moment. "Yes sir. Should I redirect one of the drones?"

"Affirmative. Do it if we have any that are close. Make it quick."

"Roger. Receiving feed now."

The monitors transitioned to a live FLIR feed from an MQ-1 Predator. There was a considerable amount of dust in the air, making observation somewhat more difficult, but they were still able to work with what they got from the drone. The point of interest was surrounded by four heat signatures; a fifth was seated in the HMMVW's cabin.

"Are they some of ours?" the commander asked.

"I don't think so. They're not using standard procedure on the radio."

"Switch to standard imaging. I want to see this."

The officer complied, and the camera's feed changed from white blobs on a gray backdrop to a more colorful picture, one that the commander could tell wasn't one of any United States personnel. In fact, these people were children. The commander scoffed a bit internally. Not only were they standing in the middle of the street like morons, they were dressed in some utterly absurd outfits. They reminded him of one of those "fan conventions" or whatever they were called.

"...Ignore them. We can't afford to risk more of our men in a rescue attempt."

"Commander! Incoming from NORTHCOM," another voice echoed across the room, causing a tense silence to form as the commander looked back. "They say that those kids might be a bit more important than you'd think."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, we're actually going places now. Everyone's starting to work together.**

 **You probably noticed that Aaron still sucks at combat. I'm trying to keep the improvement progressing at a slower pace, in order to avoid a few of the Gary Stu things that often come with OC fics. I'm not going to give everything away here, but Aaron's soon going to have an opportunity to use his head and not be a massive liability for once.**

 **Sorry for the schedule slippage, by the way. I've been busy, tired, and incredibly uninspired recently. These last few chapters have been a bit difficult to write from length and pacing standpoints, but the pacing should actually start to speed up significantly within the next chapter or two.**

 **As always, feel free to leave a review with your questions, comments, or criticism, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	20. Chapter 20

"Uh...hello?"

I brought the handset down and looked back at the team, who looked back at me with expectant eyes. I replied with a shrug and smacked the radio in frustration. I'd been trying to get a reply for a while, with no success besides the occasional burst of static.

"Well, I got nothing," I sighed. "What do we do now?"

"We should regroup with the others," Blake said. "Going deeper into the city with just the five of us would be suicide."

"No arguing with that."

"-ou copy? If you are receiving, acknowledge immediately."

Finally. After much ado, our pals on the other end of the line decided to join the conversation. Took them long enough.

"Uh...we acknowledge," I said, reprising my position at the communications console. "This IS someone from the military, right?"

"Affirmative. Redirecting your comms. Standby."

Wait. "Redirecting?" We'd finally managed to get in touch with these people, and they decide to "redirect" us before we even managed to get a second sentence in? I mean, I figured that etiquette wouldn't be high-priority given the circumstances, but this shit was just ridiculous.

"Fuckin' hell," I mumbled in frustration as the signal again degraded into static. A few tense moments later, the clarity returned, and we suddenly had another new friend.

"RWBY, this is AWACS, callsign Showtime. We've got eyes on. CAS is inbound, so follow my directions carefully and this'll go fine."

"Uh...roger," I replied.

"But, first things first: can you do me a solid identify yourself?"

Right. Assuming that they'd already connected the dots, I knew that the authorities probably were pretty much RWBY experts at this point. The Grimm, the weapons, and even my quasi-teammates could be easily identified with a couple of analysts and a few airborne images, things that the government had literally within arm's reach.

But me? I was just a beaten-to-Hell kid with a contraband assault rifle who just so happened to be fighting alongside- no, escorted by a group of schoolgirls who were now quite possibly the most important people on the face of the Earth.

So yeah, some explanation was definitely in order.

"I'm...I'm Aaron Carlyle. Age 17, American citizen, Social Security Number is 42-"

"Hey, that'll do, Aaron. We can sort out the details later," the AWACS officer interrupted. He sounded pretty young, actually, which was oddly comforting. He kind of sounded like Richard, actually, who was probably wondering where his little brother had been for the last few days.

Boy, would I have one hell of a story to tell him when (if) I got home.

"Uh...do I need to get everyone else on the mic too, or…?"

"Negative. We already know who your friends are."

The entire team turned to face me, their eyes wide with confusion.

 _'Well, shit. This is sure gonna be fun to explain.'_

"Wait, Aaron," Blake said. I tensed up as she approached cautiously, anticipating the imminent disaster that would result from me telling the people that I owe my life to that they're characters in a web animation that I just so happened to be a fan of.

I needed to read more fanfics.

"Yeah?" I halfheartedly replied, expecting the worst.

"If we're from another planet, why do they know who we are?"

"Uh...beats me…"

Blake's eyes narrowed with scrutiny as she mentally picked me apart. She had experience with people keeping secrets, perhaps more than anyone else here. I had managed to win the trust of Ruby, Yang, and even Weiss.

But that wasn't enough. Blake knew exactly how to hide in plain sight. She knew what it felt like to harbor a secret.

And now, she was on the hunt for mine.

"No, it doesn't," the Faunus said in an accusatory tone. "You're hiding something. And apparently you think that we're too stupid to connect the dots."

"Blake, stop!" Yang pleaded. "You're being ridiculous. Aaron's put his life on the line ever since we got here. If he was hiding something seriously bad, he would've ditched us by now….right?"

Ruby jumped into this growing trainwreck of a conversation, attempting to diffuse the conflict.

"We can't afford to point fingers, guys! If we can't work together, we're dead!"

I pulled my mask off and shot an uneasy glance at Weiss. Hopefully, all of the team-building happy fun times we'd shared would keep her from overreacting to my secret knowledge.

But then again, would any action they could possibly take really be an overreaction? As much as I wanted to avoid a severed carotid artery, I couldn't really imagine blaming the team for any...reprisals. I had seen every naughty secret, every tender moment, and every internal struggle.

Their lives since the original trailers up until Volume Three's first episode were pretty much open books, books that I had spent hours reading.

This was going to be a bad time.

"...I'm with Blake," Weiss stated. "I want to trust him, but Aaron doesn't have a spotless track record as far as openness goes."

I looked around. Ruby was evidently at a loss, judging from the sadness in those silver eyes. She and the rest of the team had dealt with Blake's hidden identity already, but that was a completely different ball game from mine.

This could go to shit in an instant. Things were coming to a slow boil. It wouldn't destroy the team, but it wouldn't be pretty in the slightest.

Now or never.

"...You're from a web show."

The discourse came to a screeching halt. I had their attention.

"...What?"

Ruby was staring at me. Great.

"I shit you not, you guys are the stars of an internet cartoon. Here, on Earth."

Yang cracked a half-smile, like she was in (totally reasonable) denial. "Is this your idea of a joke, Aaron? Because it's a really shitty time for that."

I felt a sweat break across my forehead. "Nope…not a joke. Everything since you guys started at Beacon has been the subject of a show: a show watched by millions of people the world over. You might think it's outrageous, and it is, but think about all that's happened."

"So you know everything that's gone on with us?" Blake asked. "We've barely known you for a week, and yet you claim to have intimate knowledge of the events of the last year?"

"Yep. And before you ask, I know that you're a Faunus, and that you wear the bow to keep people from judging you only on the basis of your heritage. I even know about your past with Ada-"

Next thing I knew, I had Gambol Shroud pointed right at my throat.

I dun goofed, to say the least.

"Blake, just hear me out!" I exclaimed. "I get that I sound like a madman and a serious threat to you guys, but I'm telling the truth! I know about Oobleck's questions at Mountain Glen. I know about the battle on the train. I know about the Breach. I've seen it all happen, right on my desktop monitor. And apparently, the United States government has too. You have to believe me. Please."

To my relief, the Faunus slowly and hesitantly pulled the ninjatō away from my neck, her pupils narrowed in shock.

"So...so you're saying that we're just puppets on a stage? That we don't have any control of our actions?" She stammered, tears filling her eyes. "That we can't change of our own free will?"

Great. Not only was I screwing up my explanation, I was now screwing with the philosophy of a main character.

Awesomesauce.

"I don't think so," I answered. "At the risk of sounding like a self-righteous prick, I think that Professor Rosenthal and I show that you're not all slaves to a script. You guys are real people, and I don't give a shit about how dumb that phrasing may sound."

"So wait a minute, why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Yang asked.

"To be blunt? I thought you all would shun me as a goddamn nutcase. I wanted to see Remnant as a normal guy, not an alien," I said. "And if we're being totally honest, I simply wanted to meet you guys and live out a foolish dream of becoming a legit Huntsman."

Ruby looked up at me again. She knew a lot about this whole "follow your dreams" stuff.

"This may sound really weird, but watching you guys go on adventures and fight for the lives of innocent people made me feel...I dunno, like I was missing something. When you're a teenager on Earth, you generally don't have a lot to look forward to besides college and a soulless dead-end job," I continued.

"And when against all odds, I ended up with you all, I realized that I finally felt alive. You guys are my friends, and you have made the last few days some of the greatest of my life."

I paused for a moment, and was stunned to feel warm tears streaking down my cheeks. The audience was silent.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," I said, my throat tightening with each syllable. "And if you guys want to head out without me, I… I totally understand."

This was just swell. I fucked up my speech, I spilled a cup of boiling angst all over my friends, and NOW I was blubbering like a child in front of them.

I felt pathetic. Weak, incompetent, and pathetic. How the hell was I supposed to survive in a war zone if I couldn't even control my own emotions-

Then, I felt something different.

Weiss was hugging me.

We're not going anywhere," she said, her subtle blushing contrasted by the renewed resolve in her eyes.

"Yeah!" Yang agreed. "I could've done without the sappy conclusion, but I've got your back."

"That was a pretty unsteady explanation, but I'll trust you for now," Blake said.

Ruby gestured at Blake and shrugged. "...Well, I guess that's the best we can hope for. Anyway, we're sticking together. We've come this far already, and we're not going back."

"Wow...uh, thanks, guys," I said. "I don't know what else to say."

The team was behind me once again. They were willing to jump through a portal and put their lives on the line to defend a place that they'd never even known existed. I had put them at risk, put them right in the line of fire without being completely honest with them.

Should I have told them this earlier? Probably. But none of that mattered anymore. They trusted me.

And I couldn't let them down.

"So," I began as I slid a fresh magazine into my AR, "we still have a city to save."

"Yeah. I'm thinking we should stay here, regroup with JNPR and CFVY, and go from there," Ruby stated.

"And we might want to hold off on having another...talk, until we've evacuated," Weiss suggested.

"I second that," I replied. Yeah, I really didn't want to go through that one again with a bigger audience. Also, Coco had a minigun purse, which increases the anxiety by a factor of fifteen when one spills the metaphorical beans.

"We still have to get your government on the same page as us," Blake added. "I assume that they're still waiting on us to respond."

"...Oh right. Good idea."

Once again, I picked up the handset. "We're, uh, back online. We had some...difficulties."

"Roger. We've got our ground forces focused on setting up a perimeter around the target. Hold at your current position; we'll have fire support on station within ten minutes. How copy, over?"

Right. I still had yet to tell them about the device on my back.

Yeah, kinda important important.

"We've got a device that can close the portal," I stated. "We'd have to get close to actually use it, though."

"...Say again?"

I sighed. Of course we were throwing the action plan out the window. That was pretty much our job, really. Yep, the commanders would've gotten away with it, if it wasn't for us meddling kids.

"We've got a countermeasure for the portal. We have to get right up on the exit point to activate it. Can you guys help us?"

"I'll see what we can line up. Standby, over."

* * *

"Yeah! Scratch one more!"

The tank rumbled with the 105mm cannon's recoil as yet another high explosive shell met its target: a, a colossal two-headed snake. The reptilian horror was but one of the assortment of exotic creatures the "Lunchbox" crew had encountered (and with varying degrees of difficulty blasted to bits) since they regrouped with the main force. From what Sergeant Adams could discern through his commander's viewport, the blockade effort was working pretty damn well.

"Already lost enough men today," he muttered before popping his hatch open. "We clear yet?"

One of the seven or so infantry stationed a few meters ahead turned around and shot Adams a thumbs-up, causing him to relax for the first time since he and his crew deployed. In celebration of the momentary lapse in action, the grizzled veteran decided to partake in an old habit: smoking a cigar.

"Now, Sarge," Mac spoke up from the tank's steering controls, "everyone knows that's bad for you, sir."

"Oh, shut up, Mac," Adams replied,"I've been cheating death for fifteen years, not counting the six or so close calls we've had today. I don't think a goddamn cigar will be the end of me."

"Sergeant!" a police officer called out from the tank's left side. "We've got a big problem, sir!"

"What do you mea-"

Adams's mouth went agape, his prized cigar falling to the ground, forgotten. The lapse in combat had ended.

The Elephant was back.

"Oh Christ..." Adams muttered in a strange combination of frustration and mortal terror. "Donny, eyes sharp! He's coming back!"

"Yes sir!" the gunner replied. "I need an AP, Norm!"

"We're out!" the newbie screamed. "We're screwed, Sarge!"

Adams stared down the seemingly never-ending street at the returning beast. Apparently this thing didn't like to leave any stragglers behind, and it was now back to finish the job.

But something else had arrived.

The unmistakable whistle of a fire mission.

"Strap in, boys!" the commander said, slamming his hatch closed. "Looks like our friends at sea have decided to jump in."

The titanic beast trumpeted the closest equivalent to a battle cry it could make and slammed a massive foot into the ground, in some display of warlike ferocity.

"You're in for it now, asshole."

The pre-attack ritual was ended suddenly and explosively as a Tomahawk missile fell on the monster, shrouding it in a cloak of fire and debris.

"See you in Hell," PFC. Marlowe said.

The rag-tag band of military and police forces outside the tank cheered in victory. Anticipating a satisfyingly glorious crater in place of the giant, Adams once again opened his hatch and peeked out.

He was wrong.

This thing was still alive.

It actually survived a Tomahawk missile hit. A pained roar echoed through the streets as the beast stumbled into a nearby apartment building, a gaping hole in its side spewing a torrent of black blood onto the nearby buildings which quickly dissolved away. It wasn't going to last much longer.

But, as Adams knew, animals were always more dangerous when wounded.

"Get ready to bail out," he commanded. "If that thing charges, get the hell out of the way however you can."

The sergeant flinched as he saw his prediction came true. The monster did charge, but not in a last-ditch suicidal attack. It instead turned and charged to the left, demolishing anything in its path.

It was retreating.

* * *

"Okay, how are we gonna take this communication stuff with us?" I inquired, attempting to brainstorm a creative solution to the portability issue. We couldn't feasibly drag the Humvee with us, so that was out. "Weiss, do you still have your Scroll with-"

KABOOM!

A massive explosion, larger than I thought was possible, rippled through the streets. The layer of dust on the ground leapt up in one uniform sheet, as if the Earth itself was shaken to the core.

"What was that?!" Weiss yelled.

"Whatever it was that set that off, it was big."

The heiress scowled and crossed her arms. "Oh, really? You don't say."

"Smartass," I mumbled as I cracked an amused grin.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she replied in her typical sassy fashion.

"Eh, don't worry about it."

"Uh, guys? Do you hear that?" Blake asked, breaking up our flirting.

Deciding to use my brain again, I listened intently for a few moments. Blake probably had a better grasp of the sound, but something was there: an almost rhythmic thumping that was steadily increasing in volume…

Footsteps.

Big ones.

Goliath.

"We need to get out of here," Ruby said urgently, connecting the dots before I could say anything.

The sound grew even louder, and the ground trembled more every second.

It was here.

Right on cue, the kaiju-sized Grimm came into view as it steamrolled an entire city block. Ruby, Blake, and Yang were already sprinting at full speed out of the monster's path.

 _'Shit.'_

"Run, Aaron!" Weiss screamed as she broke out into a full run. I followed suit, glancing back at the approaching Goliath. It was getting close, and there was a pretty damn small chance of us outrunning the thing.

We were doomed.

The Goliath was within striking range. What was odd was that it didn't seem to be directly focusing on, well, turning Weiss and I into red smears on the sidewalk. A rather grievous wound sat on the left side in its center mass, a sort of grisly porthole into the inner workings of a stories-tall killing machine. I looked back up and realized why the Huntress considered staying put a good idea: the Goliath was tripping and stumbling around, its eyes growing more dim with each spurt of dark blood.

It was dying. And as the old saying goes, the bigger they are…

I sprinted as fast as I could to Weiss's position, even though I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was instinct, or perhaps a base urge to, I dunno, not die alone.

But, none of that was going to matter.

With one final, guttural cry, the ancient Grimm toppled over, the corpse's weight flattening several buildings on the adjacent street with a hard crash. Thick clouds of dust and debris blew across us, reducing visibility to zero. But I didn't care. We were alive, and we were safe.

At least, that's what I thought.

Choking on the dust, I turned my head skyward to see the fracturing and failing concrete supports of the skyscraper towering over us, a rain of millions of tons of building just moments away from crushing us.

Time slowed, and I looked back in the direction of our teammates, and saw Ruby's silhouette fall to its knees. I could already see it: she was blaming herself for this, for losing two teammates.

Well, one teammate and a completely unskilled kid with absolutely no contributions to make to the group's survival.

Yay, me.

A series of loud cracks, shatters, and crashes filled the air as the top half of the skyscraper bent and snapped, the pieces collapsing on top of one another like a sinister Jenga tower. Wanting to die with some semblance of heroism, dignity, and/or chivalry, I threw my body over Weiss's, in an effort to shield her from the glass and the million-ton collapse.

 _'Maybe the morgue will think I'm a hero or some shit. Here's to hoping.'_

For what was probably going to be the last time, I looked down at Weiss, and she looked back up at me. For a split second, our eyes locked, and I felt like we...understood each other perfectly for the first time.

Then, the weight of the world fell on our shoulders.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, here's an update. I've had some technical issues and a lot of things taking up my time, so this one is pretty late. I hope it was worth the wait! I struggled some with the "Aaron's from Earth" talk, but I gave it my best shot, so hopefully it's not too awkward to read.**

 **Now, it's time for reviews.**

 _ **Deathknight Archlord: I'm happy to hear that you're excited. I have big plans for this fic in the future, so I certainly hope that I don't let you down. Thanks for pointing out the grammatical error, too.**_

 _ **Guest: Thanks for reviewing! It's good to hear that you approve of my current approach with the OC. He's going to improve in the future, but I'm trying to take it slow, considering the short period of time he's had to develop any fighting skills. For now, he's got only Team RWBY and his mind to rely on, but that will change. I'm also attempting to develop the Aaron/Weiss relationship at a comfortable pace, but I expedited the process in this chapter to keep things moving. It's a side plot, so it's not going to completely hijack the fic.**_

 _ **As for the Aura questions, I'm not going to answer completely (because spoilers). You can probably connect the dots on your own, though.**_

 _ **1\. Aaron may develop a Semblance. Maybe.**_

 _ **2\. This fic assumes that most Terrans lack Aura. There are exceptions, and Aaron is one. I'm taking the risk of making him an "OMG SPESHUL SNOWFLAEK CHARACTUR XDDD," but I promise that it's important to the plot and not a pointless overpowering move.**_

 **Anyway, feel free to review if you want to. I always enjoy reading them.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	21. Chapter 21

"Jeez, my head's killing me…" I mumbled, trying to reassess my current situation. I knew that I was under a few thousand pounds of debris, but that was all the info I had. The gray concrete dust floated through the air in thick clouds, obscuring my already-dazed vision and filling my mouth with a horrid bitter taste that refused to go away.

After a few moments, my blurry, dim eyesight gradually returned. It wasn't 100%, but I could at least make out my surroundings with fairly decent accuracy.

My eyes darted back and forth, eventually setting on the most noticeable feature from my point of view: a huge, jagged crack that zigzagged across my visor.

"That's just swell," I muttered. The damage was wreaking havoc on my HUD, the illegible blue print flickering erratically with seizure-producing frequency. The polarization was also on the fritz: half of the visor was mirrored, while the other half remained in a half-transparent state. Long story short, the collapse had essentially taken away the coolest-looking item in my arsenal.

Oh, and I couldn't see anything. That was important, too.

Muttering a few expletives, I threw the shattered mask to the side and tore a roughly scarf-sized piece from my shredded jacket, haphazardly wrapping it around my neck, mouth, and nose. It wasn't a huge improvement (and I looked like a terrorist), but I could breathe a little better than before.

 ***USER AURA AT 68%***

Finally, I had some good news. The shields were still up, and I had some insurance for any combat in the near future. Honestly, I was surprised at how much was left. I would have assumed-

No. There was no assuming involved. The impact should have crushed me, but I was somehow still alive and intact. It made no sense, unless someone else stepped in and helped-

'Weiss.'

I looked up at the "ceiling" and saw the explanation for my survival: ice. Thick, Dust-produced ice, no doubt.

"Yep. There it is."

It was clear now: Weiss used her Semblance to make an ice cocoon to stop most of the impact, like she did during the Breach.

I looked around, expecting the heiress to drop a snide remark about my intelligence (or lack thereof.)

No snark. Not a good sign.

"Weiss?" I called out, my chest already filling with worry. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't die. I need someone to bruise my self-esteem."

"...Hrmph…"

The mound of ice and rubble to my left started to shift.

"Is that you, Weiss?" I asked.

Another layer of debris gave way as the heiress's arm burst dramatically from the mound, flailing around in search of another weak spot. I moved to assist, using all of my strength to grab and throw off a rather large piece of rebar. I was pretty impressed with myself; though I was still a far cry from an Olympic athlete, I DID feel stronger. Aura and adrenaline apparently had a synergistic effect or something. Or maybe it-

My musing on the physical effects of Aura would have to wait, because there was now a pretty sizeable glyph forming beneath the rubble.

"Oh shi-"

The arms of the glyph began to rotate at a blinding speed before the pile exploded outward, sending a shower of marble-sized pieces of concrete in all directions. They weren't fast enough to do any serious bodily harm, but they were still eligible for the "shrapnel" classification. So, like any intelligent person, I dove for cover and went full Burt the Turtle. My form was damn near perfect, too; Grandpa would have been proud.

I still got pummeled by rocks, though, so that maneuver was a complete waste of time.

I came out of my safety position and looked at the aftermath. Weiss was standing where the debris pile was, attempting to catch her breath. Her formerly-white (and undoubtedly very expensive) clothes were filthy, and her face was caked with grime. She looked more like a mine laborer in 1930s America than the poster child of wealth and power, and that was probably a serious understatement.

"... I'm impressed," I said. "I didn't think your glyphs could do that."

"I... didn't think…it would actually work," the girl panted.

"Believe to achieve, I guess."

"We should...get moving," she stated, pointing up at the mass of ice holding the ceiling up. "That's not going to hold forever. Follow...me."

"Aye, aye, Captain," I answered, waiting for Weiss to take the lead. She took a few unsteady footsteps before stumbling and falling into a stamina-depleted kneel.

"Damn, Weiss," I said, "do you want my help? I'd be glad to-"

"No," she responded, using Myrtenaster as a crutch to boost herself back up. "I'm fine."

"You can barely stand, Weiss. Come on."

"I...Okay, Aaron, you win," she conceded, looking up at me from the floor.

I smiled. Small victories.

"Alright then," I said, offering my hand, "Let's move."

* * *

"Can someone tell me what the hell just happened?"

The entire command staff stared at the monitor, stunned looks on their faces. Earlier, they had been told by the top brass that the four of the five kids on the Predator feed were superhumans fighting against the hellions that were tearing the city apart. And if that wasn't enough, the fucking Commander-in-Chief was confirming that they were from some obscure web animation.

And now, a gigantic building had collapsed onto two of them.

"Looks like complete structural failure. Casualties: Scanned and male target," one of the staff asked. "...What now, sir? Do we report them KIA?"

The commander sighed and produced a glass flask from his desk drawer.

"No, not yet. I'll give the higher-ups a call. Ask them what to do."

He turned around to face the many staff in the room, took a swig from the flask, and cleared his throat.

"Men, I'm not going to lie to you: I have never seen anything like this before. None of us have. But we've got a job to do. I want eyes watching the perimeter of the site. If you see anything, I want to hear about it immediately."

"Sir?" the drone operator asked. "Do you really think they survived that? That's impossible."

"Son," the officer replied, "Today, all bets are off."

* * *

We had been walking through the labyrinth of collapsed hallways and offices for a fairly short amount of time, but it felt like an eternity. My muscles were already feeling fatigued again, a result of the combined effects of rough terrain and the barely-conscious girl leaning on me for stability, her arm draped across my shoulders. Don't get me wrong, the latter was pretty alright; Weiss, despite her icy demeanor and appearance, actually had comforting warmth that was keeping me motivated to, y'know, not stop moving and risk death.

 _'Damn. Break out the nachos, because this is getting cheesy,'_ I thought, laughing at my train of thought and making a note to type up a Hallmark movie script as soon as I got out of Seattle.

Of course, there was the downside. My mobility was restricted significantly, I could only fire my pistol due to my lack of a second available hand, and Weiss's vastly superior combat skill was out of play until she recovered her energy. We were under a few hundred tons of debris that kept the Grimm out, luckily.

Great. Now, my perception was officially warped enough to see the silver lining in this Category 5 Hurricane of a cloud.

"You still good?" I asked.

"Yes... I'm okay," Weiss responded. "Are you?"

"I'm alright, yeah. You?"

Weiss rolled her eyes.

Here I was. Aaron Carlyle: Socialization Master.

"Uh, whoops," I muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed. This wasn't the first time that I messed up a social interaction in such a hilariously cringeworthy manner, but I WAS talking to Weiss motherfucking Schnee...

"We're going to...have to work on that," she said. "Let's stop here for a while."

I complied, slowing my already slow pace to a standstill. We were in a large "room" of sorts with a rather large amount of space. A water pipe protruded from the ceiling in the corner, a steady flow of (probably) clean water spilling out and seeping through the cracks in the fractured concrete.

The corporate princess was right. Good place to stop and take a fiver.

"Good idea."

"I can walk from here, Aaron," Weiss said, releasing her loose grip on my shoulder. She weakly shuffled to a flat, slanted rebar piece and sat down.

"Hey Weiss, do you have some bottles or something on you?" I asked as I pointed to the broken water pipe. "We could use some water."

She searched her waist bag and pulled out two small, snowflake-emblazoned Dust bottles. "Will these work?"

"Yeah, those are good. Besides, we have free refills."

I jogged over to the corner and stuck the glass containers into the stream, filling them with clear, delicious, taxpayer-funded municipal water. I walked back to Weiss, sat down, and handed her one.

"Bottoms up, kids," I said, tilting my bottle back. Weiss followed suit, but seemed almost confused after finishing.

"Hey," she asked. "Why does the water here taste like this?"

"Like what?"

"It's just...odd. Do they add something to it?"

"Yep, fluorine," I stated. "It's a Communist plot to poison our precious bodily fluids."

The heiress stared at the bottle with a blank expression.

"...What's a Communist?"

"Oh, right. Different worlds," I said, disappointed that she couldn't enjoy the reference. "I'll explain it when we get back. We can watch Dr. Strangelove and debate governmental philosophy over tea and crumpets."

"Yes, definitely," she replied. "Your terrible explanatory skills have piqued my interest."

"I aim to please," I said. "Anyway, we need to find a radio. The others probably think we're red smears on the pavement right now."

"...Ruby," she responded, her voice shaky. "She's probably in pieces over this."

"Damn...yeah, she probably is."

The heiress stood up, hiding away any uncertainty. "Well, there's only one thing to do: get out of here. Follow me, Aaron."

* * *

"And... there."

The White Fang assassin stepped back, admiring his work. He'd fashioned a makeshift distress beacon from radio parts and an antenna salvaged from the soldier he killed earlier. Under normal circumstances, he could use such a device to signal his allies or call in support.

But today, he had a new use for it.

He examined the documents that Cinder had sent. Twelve targets, heavily armed, highly trained.

Easy.

But four of the targets in particular caught his eye: Team RWBY, the star first-year students of Beacon Academy.

The Faunus wasn't surprised to see them caught up in this mess. They'd managed to track down and all but destroy the main Mountain Glenn hideout a few weeks ago, and that was only the latest example of their meddling. They weren't to be taken lightly.

But, as he'd learned, no one is invincible.

The plan was simple: use the distress beacon to bait the targets. This planet, this "Earth," had no CCT system, which meant that the signal would go unnoticed by their military. The only devices that could easily detect the signal were Scrolls, and each of the targets had one.

He wouldn't need to exert any effort searching; they would come to him.

Assuming they survived the hordes of Grimm that moved through the streets, they would be significantly less capable of putting up a fight once they got close, which would make it incredibly easy to pick them off one by one. Their superior numbers meant nothing if they couldn't use them.

They'd be attracted to the bait like moths to a light.

Now, all he had to do was flip the switch.

* * *

"Weiss? Do you want me to take the front?"

"No. Why?"

"I thought that, like, the male taking the front was the expectation."

Weiss stopped and turned to face me, looking quite unimpressed as usual. Given, I WAS the village idiot in this dynamic, but THIS face was a definite indication that I had goofed.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes...I think," I replied. "Y'know, if we get attacked by Grimm or spooky ghosts or whatever, they'd murder me first and you'd have a ten-second window to escape."

"So let me get this straight: you don't think that I can handle leading?"

Village idiot has done goofed. Again.

"Wait, n-no!" I stammered. "That's not it at all, I swear! L-like, you're great at, um, inspiring people...or something."

Instead of going on a rant about my incompetence, Weiss gave me a small, amused smile. "You have no idea how entertaining this is to watch, Aaron."

"...Look, I didn't get out much before all of this happened, obviously," I said.

"Clearly," she replied with a giggle.

 ***DISTRESS BEACON DETECTED***

I flinched as two speech interfaces activated: one from my wrist PDA, one from Weiss's scroll.

Someone was in distress. Obviously that wasn't uncommon given the circumstances, but the fact that Scrolls could pick it up narrowed down the possibilities significantly.

Whoever was sending the signal was from Remnant, and we just so happened to be separated from a group of people who fit that description perfectly.

I glanced over at Weiss, who was already looking to me for input.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.

"Yeah," Weiss responded. "That we've found our allies?"

"Yep."

"Well, let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

 **A/N: Whelp, new chapter for you guys. It's about average in terms of length, at least when talking about my fics. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Anyway, sorry for the insanely long wait. I've had some crazy writer's block, and I had a pretty busy summer to contend with as well. Now that I'm back into a routine, I hope that I can actually start updating more frequently. I DO have a job and a few more obligations now, but I don't intend to let that stop me; I have too many big plans for the sequel fic.**

 **As always, be sure to leave a review if you have any feedback, questions, or critiques. Thanks again to everyone who followed and favorited.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	22. Chapter 22

"Finally, some fresh air!" Weiss exclaimed, taking a deep breath.

My eyes burned as they adjusted once again to the setting sun's rays. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem; my MASK would have adjusted to the light levels and made the transition more bearable. Unfortunately, some douche Goliath decided to drop a building on Weiss and I, so that valuable piece of equipment was no more.

So, I was back to squinting like a naked mole rat under a UV lamp. Being underground, even for an hour or two, and transitioning to normal light conditions was not easy on the eyes.

BUT I guess I couldn't complain too much. We were both still alive and back at sea level, and the air wasn't filled with asbestos and a myriad of other fun carcinogens.

"Huh? Weiss? Excited about something other than event planning and bureaucratic procedure? What is this madness?!" I asked.

"For your information, I am completely capable of enjoying clean air and a picturesque sunset, you nitwit," the heiress retorted. "Well, I could do without the wreckage..."

She had a point. Downtown was in even worse shape than the rest of the city: burning cars smashed to oblivion, broken glass everywhere, and a constant stream of papers fluttering through the abandoned streets.

"No Grimm, though," I said. "That's a plus."

"Don't get your hopes up," Weiss said. "We should be getting closer to the portal, so resistance is only going to get more intense from here."

"Funny you mention that," I mutter, patting my plate carrier, "because I'm about to run out of bullets."

"Really?" Weiss asked, holding up her vial bag. "I only have this, and I'm perfectly fine. Yet YOU, the one person in our group who has an entire vest dedicated to ammunition, have managed to waste every single round?"

"...Yep. That's me. I did that."

"Congratulations," Weiss deadpanned. "Anyway, which variety of Dust would you need?"

Oh, right. I had neglected to explain that Earth didn't have Dust. In my defense, explaining that I lived in a civilization that powers everything with the equivalent of compacted, rotting corpses converted into either black rocks or black goop would be rather difficult for even the most seasoned academic, let alone some kid who hadn't even gotten a GED.

"I can't use Dust because this planet has none," I said, getting straight to the point. "This gun would probably explode or some shit if I tried."

"How do you generate power, then?" the heiress asked. "How do you do anything, really?"

"Eh, standard fossil fuels mostly: coal, natural gas, oil-"

"OIL!?" she asked, shocked. "Like, the lubricant?"

"Yep. Sometimes we even ignore safety procedures and let our tanker crews drive drunk. Exxon-Valdez was a great time, man."

"...I'll look it up. Once we get back to Beacon, of course."

"BUT, the point is, this thing uses gunpowder," I stated. "Luckily for me, it's chambered in 5.56, so all we have to do is find some Humvees to loot."

"Okay," Weiss said, pointing down the street. "The signal's coming from that direction."

Straight ahead, a massive black tower of glass and steel loomed over the broken skyline. Several of its numerous windows were broken, and the modern architecture was but a shadow of its former glory. It was a monument to democracy, and a fortress for the bureaucracy that upheld it.

Seattle City Hall.

"So...this survivor is holed up in there?" I asked. "Shouldn't we just wait for the military to clear the building? Couldn't it be an ambush by whoever did this?"

"It's a distress signal, Aaron. Whoever decided to trigger it would, logically, be in, oh, I don't know, _immediate distress."_

"Ouch. Fine, that was dumb."

"BUT I do appreciate your newfound caution," she said. "You certainly could have used it earlier, though."

"...Shut up. Anyway, can you get Ruby or anyone else on the horn now that we're above ground?"

Whipping out her Scroll, Weiss gestured to the transparent display's message: No devices in range.

"No. Chances are that the others had to drag our teammates away from the wreckage. They're probably out of range by now."

I was surprised. Not by the whole "out of range" thing, but the way that she said it. It was absolutely unflinching, like she didn't even acknowledge that her best friends probably thought her to be dead under a collapsed building.

"Damn," I said, "does that not faze you at all? The possibility that Ruby had to be forcibly removed because she refused to give up on us? I mean, I'm cultivating a healthy detachment from all of this, but seriously..."

"It fazes me, all right," she replied, her voice softening. "I just can't let my personal feelings get in the way of our mission."

"If you say so," I replied. "But if you want to cry or whatever, that's totally fine-"

"NO!" the heiress shouted. "First of all, I don't cry. Second, even if I did cry, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of seeing it."

"Conceal, don't feel, fam," I said.

"Did you just call me 'fam'?" she asked.

"Did you just miss my reference?" I countered.

Years of 100% healthy Schnee family dynamics at work, everyone. Then again, that resolve was admirable in some cases, this being one of them.

"Anyway, our best chance at the moment is to get to the transponder before more Grimm arrive," she said.

"We'll need to watch our backs," I said. "Lots of hallways, tight quarters."

"Agreed."

"Do you know, like, Defendu or CQC or whatever?"

Weiss facepalmed.

"Aaron...I use a sword as my weapon. What do you think?"

"...ANYWAYS, we should definitely go. Like, now."

The heiress snickered as she started to run down the street. "Wouldn't want you to say anything else incredibly stupid, right?"

"That's the idea."

We reached the building after navigating a maze of abandoned cars. The sight of so many driverless vehicles left my mind to wander, thinking about where the survivors could have gone.

If there were any, that is. The more liketo outcome was that the Grimm had picked the inner city clean; any civilians who hadn't evacuated in time were probably hidden away with little chance of survival.

This wasn't mere terrorism anymore. This was an act of war, committed with stolen technology and thousands of 100% Remnant-born killing machines.

And really, some part of me wanted this signal to be set by the perpetrators of this attack. They had attacked innocent people on MY home soil, on MY planet. It was personal.

I nodded to Weiss and shoved the cracked glass door open, my weapon at the ready.

"You go left, Aaron. I'll go right," Weiss commanded.

"Yes ma'am," I said mockingly as I walked backward, away from Weiss. "But do you even have authority to order me around? I mean, I'm technically a civilian, _maybe_ a partisan if you're really generous with the term. You, on the other hand, are a-"

Suddenly, my left foot struck something, causing me to fall backward onto the hard tile floor.

 _'God, I hope she didn't see that-'_

I looked up and found myself face to face with a dead soldier, propped up against the wall, behind an overturned desk. My blood turned cold as I looked at his face; glassy, lifeless eyes peered into me in a way I couldn't find the words to describe.

"Oh, FUCK!" I screamed, scrambling away from the corpse. My flailing legs made contact with the desk, shifting it and causing the soldier to slump over.

"Are you okay!?" Weiss asked, her heeled footsteps echoing through the room. "Aaron-?"

She stopped.

"Oh..."

"Holy hell," I said, catching my breath. I still couldn't believe what had happened; obviously, I expected to find a body at some point, but the suddenness of it all was really what got to me.

Alas, I had to regain my composure if I was to survive.

 _'Yeah, save it for therapy later, Aaron,'_ I thought.

The body was entirely intact by some miracle (or curse), and there was no immediately obvious cause of death; no claw marks, no bites, no severed arteries.

This wasn't from a Grimm.

"...Should we search him?" I asked, still shaking a little.

"Y-yes," Weiss answered. "We might be able to find out who or what did this."

"I guess I'll do it," I said, mustering up some courage.

"Fuck," I muttered, glancing at the man's uniform sleeve. "He's a Ranger."

"What's that?"

"See the insignia on his sleeve? That basically says that this guy was probably a total badass."

Weiss was (again) puzzled. "Wait, like a Huntsman?"

"No," I said. "We don't have those here. These guys are just higher-tier soldiers with better training."

"So, Specialists, then."

"Yeah, I guess that works," I replied.

 _'Well, here goes...'_

Taking a deep breath, I reached forward and gave the body a shove to ensure that this wasn't an elaborate booby trap designed to murder me.

Nothing. He was actually dead.

Now, it was time for the interesting part.

Grabbing the left side panel, I pulled hard on the soldier's chest rig, attempting to release it. The rough fabric came undone, allowing me to remove the plate carrier from his torso. It wasn't exactly stuffed, but it did have a handful of much-needed STANAG magazines for me to take. While I did feel some unease about looting dead bodies for ammunition, I wasn't exactly averse to it either, for better or worse. This was a desperate time, after all.

After refilling my own magazine pouches, I moved on to the other pockets on the vest.

"Let's see: first aid kit I don't know how to use, a radio thing I don't know how to use, some glowsticks," I said aloud, to Weiss's chagrin. "And, last but not least..."

My hand froze as I grasped a roughly baseball-sized object in the final pouch.

"Holy shit."

"What!?" the heiress asked.

I pulled the object from the pouch and held it up. It was a legit fragmentation grenade, and I, a totally unqualified civilian, was holding it up like a kid on Christmas.

"It's a grenade. A real life, fully functional, high-explosive packed anti-personnel _grenade."_

Weiss blinked. "Is that all?"

"Yeah...?" I said, saddened a bit by her unimpressed reaction. "I personally thought that this find was totally fucking cool, but..."

It was almost enough to make me forget where I got it.

"Well, I suppose you should keep it," Weiss said. "Just in case."

"Well, yeah," I replied. "I wasn't planning to share."

"Be quiet, you moron. We've been here too long, anyway."

With that, Weiss kneeled down and placed her hand over the soldier's eyes, pulling the eyelids shut.

Then, she stopped.

"Wait."

"What?" I asked.

"Look at his neck," Weiss replied. "See those marks?"

I took a closer look, immediately noticing vaguely rubber-stamped marks around the neck.

"It looks like strangulation," Weiss said. "Which means we're definitely not looking at a Grimm attack."

That confirmed my suspicions.

And this was probably going to get ugly.

"...Well, we're fucked," I deadpanned.

"No, we're not," Weiss said, drawing her rapier. "We have to get to that beacon. It's directly above us, probably on the highest floor."

"Are you sure that's safe?" I asked.

"No. But we don't have much of a choice, Aaron."

"Fair enough, I guess," I replied, walking toward the elevator call panel. "My life expectancy can't get much shorter anyway."

I gulped and pressed the "up" arrow on the elevator. Surprisingly, the power was still on. Backup generators, probably, but I didn't really care that much regardless. Before I knew it, the leftmost elevator had arrived, rest to ferry us to an uncertain fate.

"Ready?" the Huntress-in-training asked.

"Yeah," I said, pushing the bolt catch on my rifle. "Let's do this."

The numbers on the elevator screen increased at what felt like a snail's pace, probably a result of me being high on norepinephrine for the last few hours.

 _'Jesus, the buildup is gonna make me vomit.'_

 ***DING***

The metal doors slid open, allowing us access to the top floor office. The place was opulent: taxpayer dollars well spent on thick rugs and portraits of previous officials that I couldn't recognize. In the center of the spacious office suite was a large, intimidating wooden desk, with a matching tall-backed office chair positioned behind it. Evening sunlight filtered through the blinds, bathing the room in an eerie glow.

"Well, well," a man's voice rang out through the room. "You're ten minutes early."

The huge office chair spun around, revealing the speaker: a white-masked, gauntlet-wearing Faunus.

I couldn't believe my eyes. A White Fang lieutenant.

Here. In front of me.

This was gonna suck.

"Who are you?" Weiss asked forcefully, Myrtenaster already in combat position. "Why are you here?"

"Hey, it's a business trip," the Faunus said, his angular helmet's detailing lighting up red. "They don't tell me much, and I don't ask many questions. All I had to do was grab some papers..."

With blinding speed, the lieutenant's right gauntlet mecha-shifted, revealing a triangular metal blade.

"And deal with some troublesome kids," he finished, aiming the blade at Weiss.

"Go on, kid," he said, turning to me. "You're not on the list, so I have no reason to waste my time killing you."

Weiss glanced at me.

"Aaron, you should go. You'll get yourself killed if you stay here."

"No way!" I replied. "I'm not leaving you with this guy!"

"You should listen, Aaron," the Faunus interjected. "This isn't your fight."

This was it. This decision could define my entire life. Run and take my chances, or stay with my friend and try to help.

There wouldn't be any dishonor in running. I was clearly outmatched here, and self-preservation was an innate human drive.

But...that's just not how this was going to go.

"Like hell!" I shouted, leveling my M4 at the White Fang member's center mass. "You motherfuckers started this, on _my_ homeworld. And now you want me to leave my friend to die while I run away? **FUCK. THAT.** "

Weiss looked at me in shocked disbelief as the lieutenant snickered.

"Beautiful! Bravo, Aaron!" the lieutenant said, clapping. "Good show, man. Good show."

"But, unfortunately for you," he continued, unfolding his other gauntlet's blade. "I don't give free passes for dumb resolve. Prepare to die."

* * *

 **A/N: This is a late chapter, even by my standards. Hopefully it's up to spec. I figured that it was probably time to really get back to work on this, especially since Volume 4 is already underway. Once again, I hope you guys like this update; the follow-up is coming soon, I promise.**

 **But, before I finish this AN off, I just want to say thanks to you, the readers. 31 favorites and 42 follows may not seem like much to some people, but it means the world to me that you guys enjoy what I type up and post.**

 **Well, as always, feel free to leave a review. I'm always looking to improve my writing, and I love engaging with the RWBY community on this site.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Hi again, readers. I know, I know, it's been about two eternities since I've updated. Things have been pretty busy for me lately, between working over the dreaded Black Friday-Christmas holiday season and a load of academic stuff to take care of. Oh, and RWBY Volume 4 is a thing, so yeah. Regardless, here's a new chapter for you guys. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

This wasn't good. While I was on some level impressed and surprised by my ability to not piss myself and hide in the closet, it didn't change the fact that there was now a trained White Fang assassin who had me in his crosshairs. Despite my newfound ability to generate Aura, I was still massively outmatched in both skill and weaponry here.

If I could distract the enemy, I could give Weiss a better chance at defeating him. I didn't exactly know Krav Maga, but I could certainly try to hold him off. And really, I didn't have that many options to begin with, so this would have to do.

"Stay back, Aaron!" Weiss yelled, boosting forward with a glyph to meet the Faunus. The wolf growled as his blades met her rapier, halting his advance momentarily in a shower of sparks. I flipped the safety off of my rifle and lined him up on my reflex sight, but I couldn't get a clear shot. If I fired, I'd risk hitting Weiss, and I didn't know exactly how much damage my bullets would do if I shot her instead. So, despite every urge to unload, I held my fire.

Weiss, on the other hand, was putting up an impressive fight. She and our assailant clashed fiercely at an almost blinding speed, the screech of metal-on-metal filling the air. I flinched as her rapier glowed blue and a bolt of electricity shot out of the blade, right into the assassin's Aura. The blow knocked him back a few meters, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Not good for us.

"Not bad, Schnee!" the Faunus laughed. "Looks like that training your Daddy's paid for has worked!"

"I'm attending Beacon on my own merit, you fool!" Weiss replied. "And I intend to fulfill my duties as a Huntress by putting you down!"

"Can we not be civil?" the Faunus asked, his laughter ceasing immediately. "Well, let's make this a bit more interesting, shall we?"

The terrorists reached behind his back and removed a cylindrical device from his belt. Before Weiss could react, he slammed his thumb down on the top, causing the device to beep and glow an ominous red. I knew immediately what was happening.

That was a detonator.

Five synchronized explosions rocked the office as the floor crumbled beneath our feet, revealing the two floors below us. Before I could even scream, I found myself falling a solid twenty feet at dangerously high velocity into a much more open office environment. I crashed into an expensive-looking glass conference table which exploded into hundreds of jagged shards upon breaking my fall. I immediately groaned in pain, assuming that I had broken my back or something else important, before checking my wrist. My Aura had dropped by about 8%, but I was otherwise healthy. In need of morphine, perhaps, but healthy.

Weiss, in stark contrast, had stuck the landing perfectly. Upon hitting the ground, she drew her sword again in anticipation of another attack.

"This is more like it!" the assassin said. "That office was getting cramped!"

"Yeah, I like what you've done with the place," I muttered, pulling a glass shard out of my plate carrier's nylon fabric. "Really boosts property values."

The Faunus radical leapt from his high perch and dropped to our level, preparing to engage once again. A loud crack echoed through the newly-remodeled room as he used his Aura to break the fall, which consequently broke parts of the linoleum floor paneling.

Yeah, there goes the resale value. And it was just coming back from 2008, too…

Unflinching, Weiss shot forward and performed a diagonal slash. The Faunus radical met her blade with his own, locking them both in a desperate struggle for the ability to counterattack.

"Not bad, Schnee! You're much stronger than you look!" the Faunus said, sparks shooting off of his weapons.

Weiss growled and drove her boot into his left leg, which took it out from under him and threw him off balance. She slashed horizontally across his chest, her rapier's sharpness almost audible as it raked across his Aura.

"Now, that's dirty," he said. "I was hoping for something a bit more honorable, Weiss."

"You're one to talk," Weiss replied. "You're the member of an organization that unleashes Grimm on innocent people!"

"Nobody's innocent, Snowflake."

The heiress had clearly had enough. With a glare that was best described as pants-shittingly terrifying, she thrust her sword at lightning speed toward the lieutenant.

The blow didn't connect.

"Playtime's over," the lieutenant said, effortlessly deflecting the killing blow with a powerful strike. Weiss swung again, her expression changing to shock as Myrtenaster again missed its mark.

 _'This isn't good.'_

I scrambled to my feet in preparation to assist as the lieutenant began to turn the tables on my friend. His gauntlet blades screeched as they locked with Weiss's rapier, their owner wielding them with surgical precision to create a seemingly impenetrable shield through which no melee strike could pass. I grasped my rifle and loaded a new magazine, my fear increasing with every glance at the battle. As the show had demonstrated, Weiss couldn't last forever in a melee engagement, and this was starting to look like a perfect example.

Her stamina was dropping. Fast.

The terrorist swept his left blade diagonally into her shoulder. Weiss's teeth clenched as she tried to avoid crying out in pain, her bluish-white Aura flaring and rippling like a luminous ocean as it began to give way. The assassin continued his assault with a hard kick to her chest, which slammed her into the opposing wall.

"Weiss!" I called out, desperately hoping for a reply.

"She's out like a light, kid."

I glared and turned slowly to the taunting wolf-man. He shook his blades triumphantly and chuckled as he gloated about his victory.

Needless to say, I was pissed.

"Oh, nice! Some passion!" he laughed. "Your little lady friend over here wasn't the expressive type. This is a nice change of pace, yeah?"

"You just pummeled an inexperienced young girl into the ground," I replied, my voice seeping with venom. "Aren't you just the strongest, most spectacular representative of Faunus rights?"

"She's a Schnee," the man replied, shrugging nonchalantly at the possibility of killing Weiss. "Well, she WAS a Schnee, but that's not-"

 **BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!**

Seizing the opportunity to quickly dispatch him, I let loose a barrage of carbine fire mid-sentence. The STANAG rounds cracked as they broke the sound barrier and slammed into the blade-wielder with enough force to tenderize any tissues unlucky enough to get in the way. I focused only on my reticule as I dumped the entire magazine downrange, stopping to blink only after the bolt's cycling ceased.

The smoke cleared, and panic filled my heart.

The Faunus was still alive and kicking. Hell, it didn't even look like he FLINCHED. His sinister laugh filled the air as he reached down and picked up a flattened 5.56 off the floor.

"Is this really all that you people have to throw at us!? I know quadriplegics who hit harder than this!"

Fucking soul magic. We'd gone as a species from chunking pointy sticks at each other to developing highly sophisticated ammunition for small arms that could punch a hole clean through a steel helmet at 200 meters, and it was all rendered moot by force fields produced by the soul or something.

Seriously, what the hell.

"Now, Aaron," the assassin began, retracting his blades. "Let's put the toys away and settle this like men."

My stomach dropped as the lieutenant moved himself into a hand-to-hand combat stance. And I, the pastiest nerd in town, a lanky teen with almost no fighting experience, was his opponent.

"Since I'm a nice guy, I'll give you a head start, Aaron. Your move."

My move, naturally, was to reach for my sidearm, allowing my empty primary weapon to hang from its sling. Sure, Terran bullets evidently didn't have the same amount of oomph that, say, a sniper-scythe had against Aura, but I also knew that there was at least a slim chance that they were doing SOMETHING.

My hand wrapped around the grip and I yanked hard, snatching the pistol from its holster. Before I could level it at my enemy, however, he was already closing the distance. I could see the combat high in his eyes as his grip wrested control of the gun. I attempted to counter, but was met with a firm punch to the face. My vision blurred and I staggered backwards, completely disarmed.

"Get this crap outta here!" the White Fang officer taunted, tossing my gun to the side. "I'm giving you a fair shot, Aaron! Come on!"

If I tried to run, I'd get cut down. If I stayed put, I'd get cut down. And if I went along with the mutual combat thing this maniac had cooked up, I'd get (you guessed it) cut down. This was pretty much going to end with me getting cut down, no matter what choice I made. So, thinking through this logically, there was probably one solid option here.

Run? Yeah, no. I lost that opportunity a few hours ago. Try to fling more bullets at this guy? No dice.

"Well, one door left," I muttered, again shouldering my rifle. I tightened my grip on the weapon, accepting that I was pretty much a cornered rat with nowhere else to scurry off to. And what do cornered rats do?

Easy. They fight like hell. If I was going down, I was going to make goddamned sure that I got a few good hits in on this guy.

"Alright, let's go!" I yelled, readying myself for the last dance. The assassin laughed and jumped forward, deliberately putting himself in my melee range.

"One free strike, pal," he said, mocking me with an exaggerated crane fighting stance.

I had heard enough by now. I grasped the stock of my gun and directed all my strength into a buttstroke attack. The Faunus was seemingly caught off-guard as the rifle's stock smashed into his ribs, sending him staggering back a few feet.

"Wow," he said, rubbing the area of impact. "That's not too bad, man. Good form!"

I gritted my teeth and thrust the gun forward for a second strike. The assassin jumped to the side, dodging the attack.

"That... not so much."

I tried to recover my stance for a third attack, but the Faunus was far faster. Before I could regain my balance, he deployed his right gauntlet and swung the blade downward toward my shoulder. Reflexively, I held the gun perpendicular to my chest, stopping the terrifyingly sharp blade in midair.

"Not a bad block, either," he said, retracting the sword. "Unfortunately for you, play time's over."

Grabbing the gun with his free hand, the assassin initiated a struggle for control of the firearm. Naturally, I was losing, but I was still determined to hold out, and I maintained my vise grip on the rifle.

That is, until my adversary's right fist smashed into my face. Sharp jolts of pain emanated from my nose as the square-on impact drained a pretty significant amount of my Aura reserves. I recoiled back, fighting against the blurring of my vision and the ringing in my ears. After a few moments, I returned to semi-normal shape and formed my hands into two tightly-rolled fists.

There was only one problem: the assassin had my gun.

'Oh shit.'

"Swing, batter batter, swing!" he exclaimed in a mocking Brooklyn-esque accent, his gloved hands gripping my precious weapon like a top-notch MLB slugger grips a wooden bat.

"I picked this one up in Little League," he taunted, swinging the gun at me. I tried to jump back and evade, but the White Fang member adjusted his swing angle faster than I could move away. I felt the force of a sledgehammer impact smash into my side and screamed as my Aura field began to distort and collapse.

The distinct ripple effects that I had witnessed on Weiss were now appearing across my body. I struggled to even find the strength to stand; I wouldn't be able to take much more punishment, especially from a trained killer like this.

"Aww, he's all tuckered out," the man taunted again, tossing my rifle away before cracking his knuckles. He rammed his fist into my stomach, knocking the breath out of me along with even more Aura. Another punch struck my jaw and sent a shower of saliva and fresh blood flying out of my mouth. I groaned and tried to throw a counter-punch before the Faunus kicked me square in the chest, sending me careening into the wall. My head slammed into the concrete, opening up a nasty gash that poured a steady stream of blood down my face and into my eyes.

I blinked, struggling to make out my surroundings through the red fluid. My assailant was walking toward me, taking his sweet time with the coup de grace. I weakly tilted my head to the right and saw Weiss struggling to get back on her feet again. She was clearly too weak to fight, even though she evidently still had enough strength to force herself out of the cold grip of unconsciousness.

'Well, at least I bought her some time.'

"I'm going to kill her first, Aaron. Just for you."

I watched helplessly as the assassin closed the distance and punched Weiss in the gut, doubling her over in pain. She was utterly helpless to fight back, and another punch sent her tumbling to the ground beside me.

"Aaron, please…" she said weakly. "Run!"

"It's...a little late for that now, isn't it?" I muttered. I was out of weapons, out of Aura, and out of options.

Well, almost.

I shuffled clumsily through my remaining gear and found something, a game changer.

The grenade. I still had it.

"So, you want me to finish you both at once, or do you guys want to take turns?" the Faunus said, examining his blades.

"Weiss?" I asked. "Do your ice glyphs still work?"

"...I think I can use them," she replied. "What do you want to do? Slow him down?"

"No. Just wait for my go."

Gripping the spherical explosive tightly, I pulled the ring-shaped pin and allowed the safety lever to release.

Now or never.

"Hey, asshole!" I yelled. "Catch!"

With all my upper body strength, I threw the grenade at the Faunus. His blades deployed in the blink of an eye as he prepared to intercept said grenade, presumably to diffuse it by literally cleaving it in half.

Luckily, we had a solution for that too.

"Weiss! Now!"

A white glyph appeared under the assassin's feet, and a thick layer of arcane ice formed from the ground up, engulfing him just as the grenade touched his arm. A rough silhouette of his menacing figure was briefly visible through the frozen mass before a loud boom echoed through the room, the smoke and fire of the grenade masking anything within the icy tomb.

"I-I didn't think that would work," I said, still processing the shock of the battle.

"Y-yes…" Weiss said as I stood up and started toward my displaced rifle and pistol. I picked the rifle up and holstered my pistol, relieved to be rearmed. Were they about as useful as pea shooters? Yeah, but still, it was empowering to have something that shot bullets back in my possession.

"Alright, should we move on-?"

 **CRACK!**

I jerked my head back to the ice to see large cracks forming across the surface. Another cracking sound met my ears as a vaguely fist-sized dent appeared, causing my heart to sink.

He wasn't done yet.

"Aaron," Weiss said, rushing over and grabbing my arm. "We have to go!"

As the jagged triangular implements of death began to work their way through their cold prison, Weiss and I made our way across the room to the empty elevator shaft. Deftly using her remaining fire Dust, the heiress cleaved the doors open, leaving behind a trail of glowing-hot slag in her weapon's wake.

She peeked over the edge, peering down the hundred-foot tunnel, and then looked me straight in the eye.

"We have to jump."

I looked down the shaft and turned back to her.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding. We're not going to have enough Aura to survive THAT fall, Weiss!"

"Glyphs, remember?" She said, evidently trying her hardest to be reassuring. Needless to say, it wasn't working too well.

"Uh... are you sure about this?" I asked, glancing back at the ice cocoon. It wasn't going to hold much longer, clearly. "I mean, we-"

I froze as Weiss grasped my arm softly.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied. "Now, let's go."

* * *

 **AN: So, a first taste of real combat against a non-Grimm. I tried to make it believable, seeing that someone like the OC would realistically get trashed big time. Anyway, these two aren't out of the woods yet.**

 **As always, leave a review if you want to. I'm always looking for pointers on making the story better, especially since we're rapidly approaching the big ending and the planned sequel.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Hi, everyone. It's been a while.**

 **Needless to say, I've been on a bit of a hiatus from writing in general. I got incredibly busy with school, but now that I'm finished, I've been able to finally get the motivation to buckle down and start writing again. Writing this has been a bit like returning home after going abroad for a few years, albeit much less emotional. I'm excited for what's to come, and I'm hoping you guys enjoy this 4-months overdue update!**

* * *

As the wind whipped through my hair and my body plummeted toward the hard bottom of the elevator shaft, I took a moment to again consider what the hell was happening. That was a rather difficult task to accomplish while falling at terminal velocity, though, so I decided that my energy would be better used to keep myself alive. I glanced over at Weiss, who seemed to be much better at this whole landing strategy thing than I was. Either way, my death was again all but guaranteed, given that the assassin seemed to shrug off a grenade blast to the face while Weiss and I were both fucked up to varying degrees.

"Brace yourself!" Weiss yelled, cycling Myrtenaster's cylinder and conjuring two purple glyphs at the bottom of the shaft. Gravity Dust, evidently, judging by the sudden slowing of my descent to a somewhat more manageable level. My body slowed in a manner that seemed almost magical (and _essentially was magical_ ), and I stuck a clumsy landing at the bottom of the concrete tube with only minor joint pain and mild nausea from the sudden stop. The heiress came to a much more rehearsed landing a few feet away and immediately began to climb out of the shaft, signalling me to follow.

"Well, that was fun," I said, awkwardly pulling myself up the exposed rebar and possibly-dangerous electrical wiring and out onto the bottom floor of the building. The fall had taken us to a rather spartan-looking parking garage situated underneath the administrative building that was still full of cars despite the current situation outside.

' _Good cover, I suppose.'_

"Are we gonna try to bail, or are we going to take our chances again against that guy?" I asked.

Weiss shrugged with a surprising lack of obvious concern. "He was already working his way out of the ice when we jumped, so he's probably coming after us now if he hasn't already started. I don't think running is an option."

"We could drive, I guess?" I said, half-joking. It wasn't like we'd get far with the current state of the road network, but I figured it would be worth a shot if I knew how to hotwire a car. Unfortunately for us both, I wasn't _that_ much of a delinquent, so that wasn't a skill I possessed.

Weiss ignored my remark, seemingly focused on scoping out the area. "We'll have to use the cover to our advantage. Look around to see if there's anything we can use."

"Good plan," I said. Taking a short survey of the room, I began to plan out my search. There was a security room where I could possibly get something of use, but the shutters were deployed and would probably take too much time to saw through, even with something like Dust. The cars themselves were an option, but smashing into them would set the alarm off and draw the assassin's attention prematurely. The final option I saw was a closet marked with a utility sign, which would probably have _something_ of use. The only problem was getting the door open, but I had an idea on how to pull that one off.

"Hey, Weiss, can you help me for a second?"

Weiss walked over to me. "With what?"

"I need this door open," I stated, walking toward the closet door. "Think you can freeze it up or melt the doorknob or something?"

"Okay, stand back."

Myrtenaster's revolver cycled with a faint whirr to the chamber containing Burn Dust, and a jet of red fire erupted from the blade before meeting the steel doorknob. The flames bored straight into the lock cylinder, and a stream of white-hot metal poured steadily out of the warped keyhole. I briefly began to reach for the knob before remembering that I had basically zero Aura left and that metal was in fact a highly conductive metal that would burn my hands off if I touched it without letting it cool somewhat. Instead, I gave the door a good kick, which seemed to do the trick. My eyes widened as the door creaked open, revealing a large assortment of power tools and various pieces of hardware that make any dad green with envy.

Perfect.

"Alright, I'll try to throw something together," I said, gathering a few assorted tools and placing them outside. "How long do you think we have?"

"Not long," Weiss replied. "He'll be on his way after us soon, if he hasn't started already."

"Awesome," I said, grabbing a roll of plastic tubing off one of the workbenches. "Weiss, do you have another one of those bottles on you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Is it some of that shatterproof shit, or will it break?"

"...It _should_ break, Aaron. It's _glass._ " she replied.

"Neat. Pass it here."

The white-haired Huntress-in-training handed me the bottle, her face painted with a look of minor confusion. That wasn't entirely unwarranted, though; I _was_ about to work some terrorist/gangbanger magic with a glass bottle and a glorified long-ass bendy straw.

"...Watch this," I said in apprehension. I wasn't particularly well-versed in this activity, but I'd give it my best shot.

Probably wasn't going to be a good time.

Sighing, I walked over to the nearest (and coincidentally the rattiest) vehicle and pushed the gas tank cover in, releasing the spring-loaded locking mechanism and granting me access to the cap. I twisted said cap counterclockwise and prepared myself before inserting the clear tubing into the open gas tank.

"What in the world are you doing?" Weiss asked. I wasn't surprised by this question, given that she'd probably never seen anyone suck fuel out of a tank and certainly hadn't tried it with _gasoline._

"Siphoning gas," I said. "I saw my brother do it once."

Weiss glared at me.

"It was legal, I swear," I said. "Oh, and we use petroleum and fossil fuels for energy here, and no, I'm not explaining why we don't have Dust right now."

"Oil?" she asked. "Why would you use that-?"

"Long story, low on time," I interjected. "Now be ready to call a poison control center for when I drink this shit and die."

I took one last breath of fresh air before sucking on the other end of the plastic tube, watching the upper portion of the straw like a hawk for signs of the gasoline. After a few tense moments and a bit of gagging from the taste of fumes, the semitransparent fluid began to flow through the exposed tubing. I aborted mission as soon as I spotted it, releasing the tube from my mouth and placing it into the glass bottle.

"Have any more of these?" I asked. Weiss nodded and pulled two more from her belt, and I filled them as well. We were running low on time at this point, but I figured this process was going well enough.

I put the plastic tube down, spilling a bit of gas on the concrete floor in the process. Not that it mattered, of course, but that stuff got expensive. I walked to the front of the car and searched for a hood latch, to no avail. While the gas was easy to get to, this car evidently had enough thought put into it to deter some schmuck from waltzing up and fucking with the engine, i.e. myself. That was a shame, as I was missing one last ingredient for this project.

Luckily, I had someone with a goddamn sword on her hip with me.

"Hey, Weiss, mind if I borrow Myrtenaster?" I asked. I immediately shrank back, expecting a lecture on how the weapon was an extension of herself and a badge of her office, rather than a pokey stick that glowed pretty colors and shot fireballs. Surprisingly, she seemed rather receptive to this idea, which was a bit bizarre.

"I still have no clue what the point of this is, Aaron, but I'm assuming that you know what you're doing for once," she said, handing me the blade. "Try not to break it. It's worth more than your life."

"I'm aware, _heiress_." I replied, crouching down. I slid Myrtenaster underneath the dented fender of the car and stabbed hard into the machinery, hoping to break something important. I had luck almost immediately, and was thanked for my efforts with a steady trickle of motor oil dribbling from the finely-bored hole. I handed the sword back and reached back for the bottles, allowing a generous amount of motor oil to drip into each one. Happy with the concoctions, I pulled them out and stood up again before tearing a few large pieces of my shredded jacket free.

"This, Weiss," I said, rolling the fabric and stuffing it into the bottles. "is a Molotov Cocktail. Basically the cheapest grenade ever invented."

"Problem is, I'd need a lighter to use these, and unfortunately I didn't think to pack one," I continued. "Can I ask for one more thing and borrow some Burn Dust?"

"For…?" she asked.

"I'm thinking that this highly-volatile magic crystal will go well with my highly-volatile dead dinosaur juice. Assuming it actually works, I might be able to turn this thing into an impact fuse."

"And you're sure these won't explode in your hand and kill us?" she asked.

"...Mostly?"

"Take it," she sighed. "Provided that it's hit hard enough, it should detonate. Just...don't kill yourself, please."

"I'll certainly try," I said, sprinkling the Dust liberally into the mixture. I had no idea if this would work, but the fact that the resident Dust expert seemed to like the idea was encouraging to say the least.

Weiss sighed again. "We should keep working. He's probably-"

" _Waaaay_ ahead of you, Schnee."

I immediately recognized the voice. My head jerked around to see the assassin from earlier leaning against the concrete wall, seemingly untouched by the _explosive blast and shrapnel_ we hit him with earlier. His armor showed minor cosmetic damage, and one of his gauntlets seemed to be missing the signature folded metal blade, but I was otherwise unable to discern any major damage,

"Listen, I'm tired of chasing you around and I have a _killer_ headache right now, so can we just get this over with?" he asked, almost casual in his tone.

"Nah, that'd be too easy," I said. "I've gotten pretty lucky so far, so why not push it a bit more?"

"I'll try to hold him off, Aaron," Weiss said. "Your Aura's probably critical, so stay back."

"Fair enough," I said. "If you can get _his_ Aura down, I might be able to cap him and be done with it."

I was surprised at how casually I said that last part. Hell, I was surprised at my own relative lack of pants-shitting fear at this moment. Maybe it was like any fear: you get over it through exposure.

That, or I was just high on adrenaline again and was subconsciously accepting that my "flight" options were limited and my "fight" chances were basically slim to nil. One of the two.

The White Fang member stepped off the wall and raised his fists once more. "Alrighty, who's going first?"

Weiss spawned a glyph under her feet and rocketed toward the killer, meeting his gauntlets in midair with her rapier. She wasn't doing so well herself, Aura-wise, and her stamina wasn't _that_ good, so I knew that I'd have to use my improvised weaponry wisely and at the right time. With a low growl, the wolf threw a right hook at Weiss, who barely evaded the strike. Weiss counterattacked, sweeping her rapier low across the Faunus's midsection. He jumped back at the last second and regained his stance immediately, ready to continue his assault. A fury of jabs soon followed, each one barely deflected with clumsy parries from Weiss.

He was toying with her, and she wasn't going to last long.

' _If Weiss can just lower his Aura a bit, I'll be able to move in.'_

As soon as I completed the thought, Weiss managed to rake her sword across his chest, causing a ripple of Aura to shimmer across his body. He recoiled in pain before grappling the heiress, throwing her down onto the floor hard. Ragged breaths emanated from his cracked helmet, indicating a mix of rage and exhaustion.

He wasn't doing so hot either.

I looked down at Weiss, who gave me an affirmative nod.

Time to go.

"Hey, fuckwit!" I yelled. The Faunus threw his gaze at me, his eyes still concealed by his headgear. "Catch!"

In a split second, I shook the bottle hard and threw it at the assassin. Weiss rolled to the left as the bottle zoomed through the air in what seemed like slow-motion, before it collided with the target and shattered. A pained, guttural roar escaped his throat as the wolf was engulfed in red-hot flames and choking black smoke, the smell of burning clothing and flesh filling the room with a pungent stench. Eyes wide, I stared as the formerly-cocky assassin stumbled around the room, his skin crackling like a bonfire as he struggled to tear his shirt and helmet free. The angular headpiece clattered to the ground, still oily from the Molotov.

Weiss was stunned. It wasn't exactly pretty, but it was working.

The Faunus radical screamed and scrambled for something in his belt. An icy blue light peered through the chaotic scene of smoke and flame before expanding rapidly outward, extinguishing the inferno in an instant.

' _Dust.'_

The smoke cleared and the silence broke again as an enraged growl echoed through the garage. Peering through the haze, my eyes met with a horrid sight. The assassin was reduced to a scorched mess, an angry red lump of burnt dermal tissue and cauterized muscle. The room seemed to fill with the smell of a horrid barbecue as the burnt man shambled past Weiss and focused on me.

" _I-I'll_ _ **kill you!**_ " he screamed, his throat audibly scorched. Every single moment of his existence at this point was undoubtedly a nightmarish hell of pain and suffering, and every bit of that anger had one target.

 _Me._

Somehow still able to fight, the Faunus's scorched wolf ears folded back as he ran at me, oil-coated blade unfolding at lightning speed. He wasn't holding back anymore, and I knew that he was going in for the kill for real this time. This was life or death once again, and I wasn't going to hold back.

Reflexively, I juked to the right and dodged the charge, attempting to draw my handgun. The Faunus sent a hard kick into my abdomen, forcing the air out of my lungs and releasing the gun from my grasp before I could even fire off a shot. The assassin screamed once again and placed a burnt hand on my rifle, tearing it free and leaving me totally disarmed.

Another blade flew at me with an almost-audible sharpness, slamming into my side. The blow was absorbed by my remaining Aura, but I was thrown to the side by the impact. Exhausted, low on Aura, and in rather serious pain, I threw my arm to my right, grabbing one of the tools I removed from the closet earlier.

Which one? I didn't know, and I didn't care. I was desperate.

Struggling to get back to my feet, I quickly glanced down at my new weapon: a power drill with a rather menacing auger bit. Not ideal, but it would work.

I released a loud yell as I rushed toward the immolated Faunus, the drill whining as the bit spun up. He dodged my first attack and slashed at my neck, a slash which I barely avoided. I rammed the drill downward into his torso region and almost recoiled as the bit met its mark, tearing a small, ragged hole into his innards. He croaked out a scream and threw a clumsy punch at my head as I yanked the bit free, blood spewing from the wound and spattering my shirt. Under the effects of an almost euphoric combat high, I began my attack anew, ripping another sizable hole in his shredded chest armor. Another desperate counterattack came in the form of a left hook, which slammed into my temple and knocked me momentarily off balance. My vision blurred and I staggered back, but the hit almost didn't register at all with me.

"AAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!" I screamed through clenched teeth as I kicked the Faunus square in the chest, sending him tumbling to the floor. The once-proud fighter had seemingly begun to succumb to his burns, frantically trying and failing to get back up, to land one more blow on me before I finished the fight. In a trance, I planted my foot on his sole functioning gauntlet and crouched over him, ready to end this once and for all.

For a split second, I thought about what I was about to do. I knew that there wasn't any other option.

I planted the drill bit onto his forehead, swallowed the bile building in my throat, and pulled the trigger. The sickening whine of the drill joined the wolf's dying noises in an awful cacophony as the auger bit tore into his frontal lobe, sending a surge of blood and destroyed cerebrum gushing out of the quarter-sized hole. A fine red mist spattered my hands and forearms as I drew the bit out, watching in a mix of horror and sick euphoria as the life faded from his eyes.

Weiss, still reeling from the battle, gasped and covered her mouth.

I had just killed another person.

"Oh...oh _God,"_ I muttered as a wave of nausea replaced my adrenaline surge. I slumped off the limp corpse and retched, dry heaves coming in waves between breaths. Weiss picked herself up and staggered to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"We...we should go, Aaron," she said.

"...Yeah," I replied. "We...we should."

* * *

 **AN: Well, that's that. I don't have much to add here.**

 **If you feel like leaving a review, please do so. I feel like I've changed a bit stylistically speaking, and I'm looking for feedback now more than ever.**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Hello again, . It's been a minute.**

 **I've been fairly busy with college and other life matters, and I've had a pretty serious case of writer's block for quite a while now. This chapter is a pretty short one, but we're finally coming up on the end and I thought it would be a decent stopping point. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

It was a strange feeling, having to do what I just did. My mind raced as I looked down at my hands, fingers coated in rapidly drying blood.

Did I feel guilty? Maybe. At this point, I wasn't sure. The bastard had it coming, and he attacked first. Everything I did down there was necessary, period.

' _No,'_ I thought, _'it wasn't.'_

"It shouldn't be long before we get back to street level," Weiss stated, looking back at me as we walked through the long passageways of the parking garage. "Are you still...alright?" she asked, seemingly picking up that something was up.

"I-I'm fine, Weiss," I stuttered, the metal STANAG magazine rattling faintly against the lower receiver as I slid it in with shaky hands. "Just a little shaken up, is all."

"...Me too, Aaron," she replied. "Me too."

"I...I don't get it. That guy was with the White Fang, right? Why was he here? What was he after?" I asked. "Why did they start this clusterfuck in the first place?"

"I wish I knew," Weiss muttered. "We dealt with them doing something similar when the Breach happened in Vale, but…"

"That wasn't as big as this, though. There's gotta be something else going on," I replied. "As much as I want to believe that this is random...I really don't think that's the case. The fact that they managed to lift the designs and decided to actually use them for something as high profile as _this_ is...odd, really."

"...And then there's the problem of how fast they managed to make something out of them that quickly," I continued. "I didn't realize that the White Fang had access to the facilities to crank out sensitive equipment like this, let alone the level of technical knowledge you'd need to actually _use it."_

Weiss turned her head forward again, reloading the Dust in Myrtenaster's cylinder as she walked. "We'll have to sort that out later, unfortunately. We still have to get back to the others and make it out of here alive before we do anything."

"Yeah," I agreed. Noticing the telltale rays of evening light beaming down the cargo ramp, I checked the selector switch on my M4 and released the bolt catch, the rough crunching of metal parts slamming together confirming that I was once again locked and loaded. I looked myself over, ignoring the ragged state of my clothing as I inspected my plate carrier. The repeated impacts had likely done some damage to my plates' ballistic resistance, and the nylon webbing was fraying or missing entirely in multiple locations. Still, everything seemed workable, and I wouldn't be here long enough for the damage to present any long-term problems. How exactly I _left_ was still up in the air, but at this point there wasn't much I could do to affect that.

So, naturally, it was time to channel the hot hands fallacy and roll the dice one more time.

"So, we need to get a fix on the others, right?" I asked. "Can you do anything with your Scroll or do we need to work out another way to contact them?"

"I _think_ we can get back on short-range if we're lucky and head toward the portal," Weiss said, pointing toward the looming anomaly in the distance. We were clearly getting fairly close, judging by the size of the thing; it easily dwarfed most of the remaining skyline from our point of view, and it was only getting more intimidating the farther into the city we went. "I imagine that they made significant progress while we were in there."

"You don't think they're still looking for us?" I asked. "Looking for _you?_ "

The girl averted her gaze for a moment, seemingly to find words for what was undoubtedly a pretty difficult thing to think about. "I...I think they probably kept moving assuming that we made it out. At least, I hope they -"

"WEISS!"

As if on cue, Ruby's distinctively high-pitched voice echoed down the street. Weiss's eyes began to glisten as she turned toward her rapidly advancing partner and broke into a sprint.

"Ruby!" the heiress exclaimed as the two embraced, her hand cradling the back of Ruby's head. An out-of-breath Yang and Blake followed close behind, the former enthusiastically joining in on the reunion with what can only be described as a massive bear hug.

"We were so worried, Weiss!" Ruby cried. "I...I was really afraid that we had lost you…"

"I wasn't," Blake interjected, a coy grin on her face. "You're too stubborn to let something that small stop you, Weiss."

' _They dropped a building on us,'_ I thought. _'But yeah...small. No big deal.'_

"I'll take that as a compliment," Weiss responded as she turned her head back. "But I _did_ have some help."

"Oh, Aaron! I'm glad you're safe!" Ruby said. "Do you still have the...thing?"

"Yeah," I replied, reaching for the cylinder in my bag. "I'm sure it's a little beaten up but I think it still works."

"Then we can go on the attack and finally close that portal," Yang replied. "Oh...and nice to see you're alive too, Aaron. That's always a plus."

"...Thanks."

"So where is everyone?" Weiss asked.

"We split up after the building collapsed," Ruby said. "Jaune figured that we could keep the Grimm occupied and away from most of the civilians if we divided up into teams again."

"Plus, it bought us a little time to find you guys, which clearly paid off," Blake added.

"So what now?" I asked. "Are we gonna shift back to the 'rush the portal' strategy now that we're more or less in a position to finish this?"

"That's the plan," Ruby replied.

Blake stepped forward and checked Gambol Shroud, allowing the magazine to drop into her hand as she counted her remaining bullets. "We've managed to clear most of the Grimm in the area, and it doesn't seem like they're pouring into the city as fast as they were, so now is probably our best bet for getting close."

"It won't be easy," Ruby said, "but we'll make sure to keep you covered, Aaron."

"Uh...Ruby, do you think that's a good idea?" I asked. "I mean, I'm assuming you mean that I'll be the one running the device in…"

"The rest of us have to focus on the Grimm," Blake explained. "There's probably gonna be pretty strong pushback once we get that close so we'll need as much of an advantage as we can get."

"All you have to do is run, Aaron," Yang added, slamming her fists together. "We've got your back."

"Well...I guess you're right," I admitted. "Here's hoping our luck holds out."

* * *

 **AN: Like I said, pretty short chapter this time. I'm much more excited for where I'll be taking this in the future than where it is now, but I'm hoping that I can provide at least a somewhat satisfying conclusion within a chapter or three.**

 **Leave a review if you have any questions or critiques, and make sure to follow if you want an update next time I post.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	26. Chapter 26

Richard sped down the highway, the turbocharged four-cylinder of his Subaru purring as he shifted into fourth gear. His heart pounded furiously within his chest, and his breathing quickened as a mix of terror and excitement once again jolted through his brain.

The orders had come through just a few minutes prior: return to base immediately.

The young man took a deep breath, deftly shifting into fifth gear and revving the engine as he sailed into the left-hand lane and passed a group of cars. Such a sudden shift to such a high level of combat readiness across the board meant that something had gone horribly wrong. He briefly released his left hand from the wheel, wiping the moisture on his palm onto his OCP-patterned uniform before reaching for the car's radio.

"...received several unconfirmed reports of hostile entities engaging Army and Washington National Guard forces throughout the Seattle metropolitan area, with possible catastrophic loss of life reported-"

' _Maybe the radio isn't such a good idea,'_ the man thought, pressing the button again. There wasn't much that the news could tell him at this point that he couldn't figure out himself; the most he'd gathered was that there was some kind of unknown object spitting out "hostile entities," and that there was a pretty good chance that his job would soon be to _fight_ said hostile entities if the guys in Washington couldn't contain them.

' _Hopefully they didn't bring any AA,'_ he thought as he pulled his phone from his breast pocket, a faint metallic ring emanating from his Warrant Officer insignia as the object briefly slid across it.

"Hey Aaron, it's Richard again," he began, speaking into the handset. "I don't know if your phone's dead or what, but I have to head back to base for a bit because of this Seattle thing so I'll be getting home later than usual, so if you're at home right now you'll probably need to fend for yourself for dinner tonight. Again."

The older Carlyle sibling paused for a moment. Aaron hadn't been answering his phone for the last day or so, and he himself had been participating in training exercises for a few days prior to _that_ , so it wasn't the greatest week for family communication so far. "And, uh...pay attention to the news if you haven't been already. I'll see you when I get home."

With that, Richard ended the call and shifted up into sixth gear, his engine's high-pitch whine echoing across the four-lane as he drove toward the setting sun.

* * *

"...And why don't we just have Ruby run up and toss it in again?" I asked quietly, my rifle pointed straight ahead as I made my way through yet another row of abandoned cubicles. We had been moving through this particular office building for at _least_ half an hour if not more, mostly due to our attempts to minimize the amount of noise we made when moving at a faster pace. It _did_ seem to be paying off somewhat, though; we hadn't made contact with any Grimm since we began heading back toward the portal, and as a result we were all in relatively healthy condition, for now at least.

"We need someone sniping while you guys move in," Ruby answered, angling the currently-collapsed Crescent Rose downward and looking through the scope.

"...And I think it's pretty obvious who is best equipped for that," Weiss chimed in.

"Plus, I can help thin out their numbers for you once we need to fall back," Ruby added. "It'll be a lot easier to deal with whatever Grimm are left over if we're able to attack from two directions."

"Makes sense, I guess," I said as we came up on the end of the cubicle row. Several identical doors with official-looking placards lined the outer wall of the room, the titles written on each one implying that they belonged to some pretty important people.

Not that any of that mattered now, of course.

I grabbed one of the door handles and braced myself as I gave it a hard tug, hoping to God that there wasn't a Beowolf or a Creep waiting inside to eviscerate me for the third time. Giving a quick look to a combat-readied Yang, I forced my rifle's muzzle into the room and entered, sweeping it cautiously as the blonde entered behind me.

"I guess we're clear," Yang began, reaching for and pulling the cord of the office's mysteriously undamaged blinds. "We should probably-"

" _Woah."_

My eyes widened as I looked out the cracked glass panel at the plaza in front of the building, my eyes fixed on the massive purple sphere in the middle that now dominated the ravaged downtown landscape. This thing had to be at _least_ thirty or fourty feet in height, judging from its height relative to our current position in the building, and was roughly the same in width from what I could tell. Sparse but still incredibly dangerous packs of Grimm wandered among the piles of debris, aimlessly searching for more humans to kill or more things to destroy. Luckily for us, it didn't seem like they could notice us at this distance, giving us a little more time to survey the area and plan things out.

"...So, uh, it looks like they're more thinned out over there," I began, pointing to my 3 o'clock. A few stray Beowolves circled the area in seemingly random patterns, black masses weaving their way through a line of abandoned vehicles on the edge of the plaza. "We could go through the cars to get a little closer to the portal before we rush it."

"Nah, they'd probably sense us before we could get close," Yang said. "And we'd be in a pretty bad spot if we get ganged up on while we're still in there."

"Yang's right," Ruby said. "And the faster we get in there and close the portal, the less risk we have of another horde coming through right on top of us."

"That's fair," I said as I pulled the BIS from my back, inspecting the cylinder once again for any damage. "But...we're seriously just gonna run in and hope for the best? There's gotta be a safer way to go about this, Ruby. I'm gonna get fucked the second we get past-"

"I know that you're scared, Aaron," Ruby replied, pulling her bolt back and chambering a Fire Dust round. "But I'm asking you to trust me. To trust _us._ "

She was right. I _was_ scared. I had been nothing but scared for the last several hours, and I had every right to be fucking terrified. But the fact of the matter was that the time for turning back had long since passed; the only options left were to hole up in this building and wait for rescue while RWBY put their lives at risk, or to do what I came here to do and follow them in.

I took a breath.

"...Alright," I said, gripping my rifle tightly as I returned to my ready position. "I trust you."

"Good," Ruby said. "Now, let's talk about what we do once we get there."

* * *

The faint electronic beep of a laser rangefinder cut through the dead silence of an adjacent building, accompanied by the distinct crinkle of map paper and the brief *click* of an activated long-range radio.

"Sledgehammer, this is Cujo 2-1. We're in position overlooking the objective. How copy, over?"

A few tense seconds followed, the two hidden forward observers within the room exchanging glances as they looked out at the wormhole-like object a few hundred meters ahead.

"Cujo, you're coming in weak. Switch to backup frequency and try again, over."

The lead observer nodded to his partner, who immediately adjusted the radio before returning the mic.

"Sledgehammer, this is Cujo. Can you read me now, over?"

"Sledgehammer reads loud and clear. Go ahead, over."

"Standby, checking grid."

The observers stared down at their map, unaffected by the almost-impenetrable lattice of messy notes penciled all over the surface.

"Sledgehammer, fire mission. Grid: echo, tango, five one one, six seven three. Ten guns, two rounds, HE delayed in effect," the observer said tersely, reading off the script as if it were second nature. "Target number: Hotel, November, Bravo, two six zero two, over."

"Sledgehammer copies all," the radio crackled. "Message to observer: echo, tango, five one one, six seven three. Ten guns, two rounds, HE delayed effect. Target number: Hotel, November, Bravo, two six zero two."

The two observers exchanged a glance, the first nodding along slightly as they read his message back.

"Splash in twelve seconds. Standby."

* * *

After descending several flights of stairs and traversing a harrowing maze of caved-in corridors, the three of us finally reached the ground floor. Ruby had remained in position directly above us to provide support as planned, the dull percussion of her rifle still audible even at street level.

"Everyone ready?" Yang asked, looking over her shoulder from her position by the blown-out front windows.

"L-let's just get this over with," I replied, pants-shitting fear finally breaking through to the surface. I looked down at my leg and grimaced; I wouldn't get a do-over if I fucked up out there this time. I took a step towards the door but froze immediately, taking notice of a faint whistling sound coming from outside.

"You guys hear that?" Blake asked. I began to look back out across the plaza right as a massive shockwave blew through the room, knocking us all back in a blizzard of dust and bits of glass.

"I heard _that!_ " Yang yelled, the sound only increasing in intensity as large plumes of pulverized rock and Grimm pieces shot up across the horde.

My eyes widened.

 _Artillery._

"Looks like the Army's giving us a hand!" I shouted, watching in awe as mine and millions of other taxpayers' dollars gouged massive holes in the Grimm horde. We wouldn't get a chance like this again; we _had_ to move, _soon._

"Hopefully this softens them up for us!" the blonde bruiser responded, a gap in the fire serving as the only encouragement she needed. "Let's go!"

"Wait, what the fuck!?" I asked. "They're probably not done shooting yet!"

"Remember what I just said about trusting me?"

"God _dammit!"_ I yelled, falling in behind the team and breaking out into a sprint. A Beowolf immediately came at me from my left before dropping just short of my legs, a Crescent Rose round embedded in the smoking hole in its skull. I swung my rifle around, picking off one or two Grimm with shaky, imprecise bursts as Yang literally punched a nearby Ursa's head in, seamlessly transitioning to the next enemy without so much as a passing glance at her kill.

The battle continued, my legs turning into jelly from all the exertion. Dead and dissolving Grimm littered the area as even more reinforcements arrived to replace them, crashing hopelessly against the Huntresses in wave after wave of all-out assaults. We were doing pretty good so far, if I could say so myself; the portal was getting closer, much closer, and I wasn't dead yet.

"You're doing great, Aaron!" Yang encouraged, apparently noticing my fatigue as she blew apart yet another Creep.

"...Y-yep!" I sputtered, huffing like an asthmatic as the fear and exhaustion synergized with one another.

"We've only got to go a little farther!"

I flinched and jumped to the side, my reflexes saving me from a Creep's charge. My finger curled across my trigger, several rounds finding their mark on the creature with spurts of black-and-red blood.

 _'Easier said than done.'_

* * *

The two observers sat in silence, utterly absorbed in the spectacle. Command had mentioned something about this earlier, but… well, it didn't live up to the real thing.

"...Uh, Sledgehammer, we've got four...no, five unknowns in the combat zone," the first said, straightening the camera on his bump helmet and levelling it on the...yellow one. "You getting this?"

"Affirmative, Cujo," Sledgehammer replied, "We're confirming the situation. Standby."

A few more seconds passed, the two controllers utterly engrossed in the battle. Incredibly flashy stuff, even from this distance; 2-1 was _very_ impressed.

"Cujo, be advised: individuals have been identified as… uh, RWBY. You are to shift your attention outward and assist however possible until reinforcements arrive, over."

The second soldier nodded, unfolding the map once more.

"...Huh," the first said, surprised at this change. He wasn't one to question it, though; seeing was believing, and he'd believe whatever they told him after a day like this. "Cujo 2-1 copies all. Standby for additional grids."

* * *

"Watch your sides, Blake!"

A spray of luminous shotgun pellets flew across my vision and into the ninja's vicinity before finally colliding with a striking Ursa, shredding the creature's center mass with brutal efficiency. Blake turned, seemingly to thank her partner, but opened fire with her weapon's pistol form on a straggling Beowolf closing in from behind before she got the chance.

"You watch yours," she said with a coy grin, earning a brief chuckle from Yang. That was just the most recent thing I didn't understand: how they could keep up the banter even with their lives on the line. I welded my cheek to the stock of my rifle and squeezed off a handful of shots in Weiss's direction, downing a Creep at our twelve o'clock as she took out six or seven more in the same period. Not that I was going to protest, of course; the herd was looking significantly thinner already, with the exception of the occasional group that fell in on the sides or rear.

I huffed, a quick sweep around the area providing all the peace of mind I needed. The Grimm still interested in us were all either running straight into -WBY and getting obliterated, or trying to set up for sneak attacks, only to share the exact same fate. The portal was close, probably within a hundred or so meters, and _much_ larger face-to-face.

"Alright, guys," I said, pulling the interference system from my back and muddling through the arming sequence. "We get _this_ thing in _that_ hole, and we finally go home."

I paused at that last line. After all that had happened, the idea of home was almost foreign.

"Right," Weiss nodded, skewering what seemed to be the last remaining Beowolf on her sword. "Better hurry up, then."

I sighed, my fingers still on the screen. I looked up at the heiress and was about to reply when something caught my eye.

A shadow, large and black, closing fast on our position.

Before I had a chance to react, a razor-sharp talon wrapped around my entire torso and yanked me skyward, my rifle dangling precariously out of reach on its sling. I screamed in shock, flailing my arms uselessly in midair as my eyes sized up what was possibly the largest Nevermore I had seen the entire battle.

" _Fuckfuckfuck_ \- _FUCK_!" I screeched, the middle talon stabbing into my midsection hard enough to noticeably stress my Aura. Burning pain began to sear the area as Blake and Yang opened fire, the former just barely missing my leg with her kusarigama's grappling hook form. The three warriors quickly turned into rapidly-shrinking, color-coded ants as the height intensified my panic; I had a good idea of how this was going to end, and it wasn't pretty.

With all of my strength, I grabbed on, leg in one hand and BIS in the other. The monster shrieked, apparently realizing what I was up to, and promptly slashed at me with the opposite talon. Razor-sharp edges raked across my back and cut into my Aura.

" _Agh, shit!"_ I screamed in pain, holding on for dear life as the claw popped open and shook erratically. My hands and arms ached, barely keeping up with the strain; it was essentially adrenaline keeping me going at this point, and it wouldn't last much longer.

"Take… _this!"_ a familiar, high-pitched voice shouted, punctuating the line with a spurt of blackish-red ichor.

Ruby had returned.

"Hanging in there, Aaron?" she asked, climbing on top of the beast as it banked abruptly to the left. I wasn't sure if the pun was intended, nor did I care. I was just happy to possibly have a chance at surviving.

" _Just kill this thing already!"_ I cried, still hanging on for dear life as the beast's flight pattern grew even more erratic. My stomach leapt into my throat as the beast suddenly took a nosedive, apparently beginning to succumb to Ruby's assault. The redhead's scythe cleaved through the Grimm easily, sending the leg opposite me plummeting to the ground with a mere two or three hits.

I looked up, making eye contact with the obviously pissed Huntress right as she plunged the scythe into the back of the Nevermore's neck. The beast continued to scream, but it was weakening with every spurt of blood from its innumerable wounds Long story short, we were at the end of the line, and Ruby clearly realized it.

"Get ready to tuck and roll!" she yelled, suddenly looking a lot more anxious.

"What!? No!" I screamed. I honestly wasn't sure how much Aura I had lost during this mess, and I wasn't looking forward to rolling the dice on the amount I had left. There was also the problem of me being generally afraid of falling, so that didn't help either.

"You don't have a choice!" she yelled, angling her scythe and levelling the bird out a good twenty feet above the ground. "Let go!"

I looked around one last time, weighing my options. She was right, unfortunately; those convenient color-coded ants were getting farther and farther away by the second.

"Oh _God!_ " I shrieked, forcing myself to let go. I, predictably, fell like a brick, landing roughly on my leg and depleting my Aura entirely. Pain surged through my mind as I tried and failed to not look down, ultimately transforming into yet another wave of panic. It was bent, horribly so, and entirely numb. I couldn't see all of it well under the remnants of my pant legs, but, well… I didn't exactly need to.

"Fucking hell!" I cried, rolling back in pain. I had landed pretty close to the group, luckily; it was hard to focus on anything but the pain, but I could see them coming my way.

"Oh _shit,_ " Yang said. "Not again…"

I couldn't help but grunt in protest. It wasn't meant to be malicious judging by her tone, but I didn't need another reminder of how many times I'd fucked up.

"Here, Yang! Help me lift him!" Ruby yelled, zipping into view behind me and grabbing my shoulders as Weiss picked up the BIS from beside me. I immediately flinched as still more pain shot through the limb, but that didn't deter Yang, who proceeded to follow her sister's order anyway.

" _Fuck!_ Stop! _Stop!_ " I yelled, my protest falling on deaf ears as the ever-closer portal came back into view. The sounds of another Grimm wave, then another volley of artillery met my ears, both intensifying my fear. I couldn't tell if they were planning to drag me through, but I was essentially fucked either way.

"What're we gonna do, Ruby?" Weiss asked, clearly noticing the sounds at the same time I did. "We don't know how long it'll take a Bullhead to get to Mountain Glenn, and we don't even know if there's a secure landing spot to begin with!"

"We'll have to stay here..." the leader responded. "We can't just leave him here… and we still have to wait for the others."

"No…" I coughed. "You guys should go on ahead. Seriously."

"What…? Why!?" she asked. "The rest of the Grimm in the city are probably on their way back here right now!"

"Yeah, but so are _they_ ," I answered, gesturing at the explosions on the far edge of the courtyard. "They probably have an observer or a drone or something watching right now."

She nodded, but evidently wasn't convinced.

"... Besides, you guys need to go through and nab whoever set this up," I suggested. "I'll shut the door behind you."

"But what about JNPR and CFVY?" Yang chimed in, still holding the lower half of my body up.

"I'm sure they'll be repatriated or whatever as soon as Ozpin and the Doc make the… second contact," I responded. "You don't have anything to worry about. I think you'll see that we're… a lot alike."

I glanced at Ruby. I couldn't tell if this was going anywhere.

"I think he's right," Blake said. "We need to get some answers, and that starts with finding the people behind all this."

The leader turned her head to Blake, nodded, and looked to the other two. Yang hesitated but eventually nodded herself; Weiss seemed to have a similar answer.

"...Okay," Ruby conceded, glancing at Yang before quickening her pace. Our group closed the distance to the portal's immediate vicinity with surprising speed; the strength and stamina of these girls was downright _startling_.

"We'll trust you."

* * *

The two observers watched intently, their strikes still keeping most of the Grimm at bay.

"Sledgehammer, looks like we've got one injured here. You getting this?"

2-2 reached for his camera, straightening his helmet in the process for a better shot.

"Affirmative, we see it. Nearest unit is two minutes out, Cujo," the radio replied. "Maintain visual and shift targeting north."

"Cujo 2-1 copies all," 2-1 answered, nudging his partner as he released the transmit button.

"I think we're about to witness history."

* * *

After a few agonizingly long moments, Yang and Ruby sat me down. I dragged myself over to a piece of protruding concrete and propped myself against it, gun in hand. The massive, purple form of the portal loomed over me, darkening the late evening colors of my surroundings.

"Well, it's been fun, guys," I coughed. The sound of prop wash had joined the metaphorical orchestra and was growing increasingly louder by the second, announcing the impending approach of what would hopefully be my ticket out.

"Yeah," Ruby agreed, her face clearly communicating her still-present conflict over the plan. "We'll… we'll have to hang out once we all make it back!"

"It's been… enlightening, Aaron," Blake said. "Good luck from here."

I nodded, keying in the last of the commands into the BIS. "Hopefully I won't need it."

"I've enjoyed it, Aaron," Weiss said before looking around, pausing as she did. "...As much as possible, anyway.

"Well, thanks," I said, smirking. "Yang? It was a real blast. Great pizza place pick and all that."

"Heh," she chuckled. "I aim to please."

The cylinder in my hands beeped, signifying a ready and armed State. The timer started; only a few seconds left to go.

"That's your cue," I said. "Better get going before more come through."

"Alright, then," Ruby said. "Team?"

With that, the four disappeared into the portal. I looked out across the courtyard and breathed a sigh of relief as a UH-60 crested the skyline unopposed, then another, and _another…_

I looked down at the device once more before tossing it in after them, using the last of my strength to fling it as hard as possible. In an instant, a loud, low rumble filled the air, and the portal suddenly began to shrink like a deflating balloon.

"Guess it worked," I remarked, the dull throbbing in my leg intensifying as my body began to feel immensely heavy. It seemed that all the fighting had finally caught up to me.

I coughed and slumped backward, my rifle clattering to the asphalt. I attempted to drag myself forward but failed immediately; the broken leg and hours of trauma made all movement near-impossible at this point.

"This is fine…" I sighed. I stared up at the murky evening sky, bright patches of searchlight and operating lights mingling with the smoke as at least a dozen helicopters whizzed overhead.

At long last, it was over.

* * *

 **AN: Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, this took too long.**

 **I honestly don't have an airtight excuse for why this took so long. It's a mix of demotivation and having other stuff to do, probably. Regardless, I'm sorry it's been such a long dry spell in regards to updates.**

 **Epilogue and closing stuff coming soon. For real this time, I promise.**


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